


Shards of a Memory

by FantasiaWandering



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen, Tang Shen AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:58:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 52,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasiaWandering/pseuds/FantasiaWandering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if it had been Hamato Yoshi who died in the fire, and Tang Shen who moved to New York, bought the turtles, and encountered the Kraang in the alley on that fateful day? A series of ficlets and drabbles based on the AU idea that the turtles were raised by a mother, Master Shard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Master Shard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Shards of a Memory" was an idea that began in Tumblr roleplay and just would not let go. I owe a huge debt to everyone she roleplayed with who helped solidify her character and bring her to life. Pretty much everything that happened in Falling is also canon for Shard's family, and the biography below is a brief introduction before the stories begin in Chapter 2. Her ongoing roleplay adventures can be found on the shardsoftangshen tumblr.

**A Brief Biography of Master Shard**

* * *

****  " [Master Shard](http://lorna-ka.tumblr.com/post/52965311635/this-is-for-fantasia-because-i-heard-she-had-a-bad)" by Lorna-ka

Tang Shen was born in China, but after losing her parents in a car accident, she was adopted by her father's dear friend, a ninja master in a respected clan. She lived in his school high in the mountains, and trained hard under him to become a master of ninjutsu like her father. Eventually, she met and married another student of her _sensei'_ s, a man by the name of Hamato Yoshi.

But all was not well in her marriage, for Yoshi's friend and brother Oroku Saki loved her as well. Enraged by what he viewed as a betrayal, he attacked her beloved husband, who perished in the resultant fire along with Shen's baby daughter, Miwa (or so she believed). Afraid of what Saki would do if he discovered Shen was still alive, she let everyone believe that she had died with the rest of her family, and fled to New York to begin a new life. But though she tried her best, she was often lonely, and decided that a pet might help brighten her empty nights. Since Yoshi had had a fondness for turtles, the four baby turtles in the pet store window she had been passing by had been too much to resist.

Following her purchase, Shen spotted a little black-and-white cat loitering around the pet shop in search of treats. Charmed, she followed it into the alley to pet it, narrowly avoiding contact with a rat along the way. But as she raised her head after petting the charming little cat, she spotted the strange men at the end of the alley. And they spotted her as well.

Shen was victorious in the resultant fight, but the battle broke not only the bowl holding her little turtles, but the strange canister the men had been holding, and all Shen was aware of then was pain. Somehow, she managed to escape into the sewers with her turtles, but when the haze of pain cleared, she was no longer herself. She was a mutant, neither human, nor cat, and her baby turtles had similarly changed, to her utter horror.

It was then that she took the name "Shard", viewing the mutation as the shattering of the last of her dreams, and she was now only the shard of a memory. Out of a last remaining sense of honour, she could not leave the turtles to die, but her life was a fog of misery until, one day, as she lay shivering in a damp sewer tunnel, one of the turtles approached her and laid its little hand on her cheek.

Then, it opened its mouth, and spoke. "Kaa-san."

Shard named that one Leonardo.

It was then that she realized that the mutation was not an end, but merely the beginning of a new dream. She gathered her babies to her, and made a new home for them in an abandoned subway station, training them in the art of ninjutsu so that they could defend themselves if the world ever turned against them.

And though life was hard sometimes, and they had little, their home was a place of laughter, and love, and joy.

  
"Ratdad and Catmum" by [uggables](http://uggables.tumblr.com)

 "Master Shard" by wtf-skittens


	2. Happy Baby

The house was dark, shadows shifting in the light of the lone candle as Shard drifted silently throughout the room. Her feline eyes wide in the darkness, she searched the gloom for the prey that eluded her.

Then, from the darkness, came a quiet giggle.

Shard grinned, her claws crooked in front of her. "I heeeear you," she crooned. The giggle sounded again, a little closer now, and a little three-year-old face peeped out from behind the kitchen curtain, blue eyes shining with laughter, before vanishing again.

"I seeeee you…" Reaching out, she yanked the curtain aside, ready to pounce.

But the kitchen was empty.

Shard planted her hands on her hips, glaring about ferociously. "No, no, no, that will never do. No vanishing babies allowed in  _this_  house." A tiny snicker floated from above as she stalked on silent paws around the kitchen. "So that means he muuuust beeeee… RRRAGH!"

She pounced, grabbing the tiny turtle from his perch on top of the fridge, and he shrieked in glee, little arms and legs flailing as she spun him around. "I've caught you, Michelangelo! Who's my happy baby? Who's my happy baby?"

"I am!" he cried, and his arms went around her neck as she perched him on her hip, hugging him close.

"Yes, you are," she said, her tongue darting out and covering his face with cat kisses.

He was laughing so hard that he started to hiccup, his hands batting at her face. "Ewwww! Grooooss, Mummy!" But he gave her a look of sudden dismay when she stopped, and then buried his face in the soft fur of her chest. "I love you,  _kaa-san_."

She gave the top of his head a final lick before resting her chin on it with a sigh. "I love you too, my happy baby."

* * *

"[Happy baby](http://fantasiawandering.tumblr.com/post/63614196457/shards-happy-baby-because-that-little-story-made)" by melty94

"[Happy Baby](http://owlbee25.tumblr.com/post/48728144588/whoops-screwed-up-the-damn-format-blame-my)" by owlbee25


	3. Clever Baby

Shard shivered in the dampness of the tunnels as she hurried through the darkness, her hands clasped tight around the little bag bearing the precious finds she was bringing home. She had never been particularly fond of rainy days, though she could appreciate them for their quiet beauty. But since her mutation, she could state unequivocally that she absolutely  _hated_  rain.

But the salvage run was a necessary evil if she was to keep her little ones fed and in good comfort. True, she had her few contacts from her life before the mutation, contacted now only through letters and arranged drops, but she preferred to keep those in reserve, saved for emergencies. Which left scavenging through dumpsters and junkyards as her primary means of providing for her family.

She sighed, leaving the dripping sewer tunnels and entering the equally wet subway tunnels that marked her way home. It was not a glamorous life. But she did it for her children.

Her pace quickened a little. She disliked leaving them at home on their own – they were only six, and still so little – but it was better than the alternative of bringing them to the surface and all the dangers it held. She was never gone long, and Leonardo had a sense of responsibility far greater than his physical years. He and his brothers would be fine.

Finally reaching her destination, Shard let out a sigh of relief as she moved through the house, passing through the dojo to her room and shedding the plain robe she wore on these excursions, now sodden and dripping. Her fur was a wet, clinging mess; it would need to be dried and brushed out before she made any further attempts at clothing herself. In a rare mood of self-pity, she moved toward her record player, the one luxury she allowed herself from her scavenged discoveries, wanting nothing more than to let its music soothe her foul mood away.

She froze halfway to it, scare able to believe what she was seeing.

The record player lay in pieces, scattered across the table where she kept it, her record of Japanese lullabies lying discarded nearby. Every single component of the machine lay neatly and methodically dismantled, her little machine utterly eviscerated by thorough, meticulous hands.

" _Boys!"_  she roared, storming toward the entrance to the dojo.

Only to be met by silence.

Instantly, the record player was forgotten. No matter how much trouble they were in, the children  _never_  failed to come when called. Clad in only her dripping fur, Shard raced from her room, casting desperately about for her babies. She skidded to a halt in the doorway to Leonardo's room, her breath coming in ragged gasps, only to see three of her babies huddled on Leonardo's bed.

"What happened?"

Leonardo looked up at her, Michelangelo held tightly in his arms. "Mikey found Donnie in your room. He tried to tease him about being in trouble for going in there but Donnie screamed at him and pushed him down." He glanced at Raphael, seated behind his brothers on the bed, who glowered darkly but remained silent. " _Sensei,_  I think he might have run away."

Shard's expression darkened. "Leonardo, take your brother. Search the lower tunnels." She approached the bed, picking Michelangelo out of Leonardo's arms and turning her youngest's tear-stained face toward her. "Michelangelo, precious, I need you to wait here in case your brother comes home. Can you do that for  _Kaasan_?"

He looked up at her and nodded. "Good boy," she said, licking him on the top of his head, and it was a sure sign of his distress that he didn't even offer a token protest. She carried him out to the common area, Leonardo and Raphael trailing behind them. Setting Michelangelo down on the couch, she cupped his little cheek in her hand. " _Kaasan_ and your brothers will be back soon, all right? I am trusting you to watch over the house for us."

Michelangelo nodded solemnly. " _Hai, Sensei_."

Resting a hand on his head, she turned to her two eldest and nodded. With the slightest hint of a nod in response, Leonardo vanished into the tunnels with Raphael on his heels, Shard moving right behind them. As the brothers broke off to search the lower levels of the tunnels, Shard returned to the sewers on the upper levels, every sense she had on alert, searching for her missing baby. Her dismantled record player. Donatello hurting Michelangelo. It all made a twisted sort of sense. She only hoped she would be able to set things right before it was too late.

She wasn't sure how much time passed; it might have been minutes, though it felt like hours. But as she passed by the opening to a storm drain, she heard it. The faintest muffled little cry. She slowed, sniffing the air, and there, above the filth of the sewer, was the scent of her little one.

"Donatello?" she said quietly.

A frightened whimper was her only response. She leaned into the mouth of the storm drain, searching the darkness within with her feline vision. She could barely make him out at the far end of the drain.

"Donatello, please will you come out? You have frightened your family very badly." There was a small shifting in the huddled shadow, and she held out her hand. "I will not be angry. Come here, my son."

Another moment of watery silence, and Donatello crawled slowly into view, covered in filth, tears pouring down his little face. With a small cry of dismay, Shard scooped him into her arms, cuddling him close to her chest.

"Oh, my little one.  _Why_  would you run away?"

"I'm sorry, _Sensei_ ," he whispered into her fur. "I'm so sorry."

Shard sighed, bouncing him gently, and began the trek back to their home. "Donatello, I will not lie. I am disappointed about the record player. But it is a machine. It can be replaced." She held him up in front of her, looking deep into his eyes. "I  _cannot_  replace you. You must promise never to leave us like that again."

His lip trembled. " _Hai, Sensei_ ," he said, in a quavering voice. "I promise." His voice broke on the last word, and he began sobbing. Shaking her head, she pulled him close to her again, cradling him against her chest.

She took the long way home, through the lower tunnels, and breathed a small sigh of relief when the two little shadows fell in at her heels. She stroked Donatello's shell as she walked, rubbing little circles as she willed him to calm. With a glance down at Leonardo, she jerked her head in the direction of home. Her eldest nodded at her, taking Raphael by the hand and darting ahead to prepare Michelangelo and see that he was all right.

When she finally arrived back home with her second-youngest, it was to find the other three in the kitchen brewing tea. Leonardo and Raphael were clean enough, but she would have to do something about herself and Donatello. She carried him to the little utility room off the station, which had once been an emergency shower station for the subway workers and stepped into it, baby and all. It took the last of their precious supply of soap to scrub her baby and herself clean, but by the time she had done so, a towel and a blanket had thoughtfully materialized on the shower door. Silently thanking Leonardo, she bundled Donatello into the towel before wrapping the blanket around them both.

The tea was waiting for them in the kitchen, and she barely caught a glimpse of Leonardo ushering the two others out. With a fond smile at the disappearing turtles, she sat herself on the table and pulled him into her lap. Holding the steaming cup of fragrant tea to him, she waited for him to take a sip before taking one of her own, feeling the tea spread its healing warmth throughout her core. At last, Donatello's shivering stopped, and Shard rested her head against his.

"Now, my little one," she said gently. "Will you talk to me?"

He sniffled again, and turned his gaze up to her. "I just wanted to see how it worked," he whispered. "That's all. It sounded so pretty, I wanted to see how it worked. But then—" His voice trembled again, and he swallowed. "I  _tried_  to put it back together,  _Kaasan_. I really did! But I couldn't… I couldn't…."

"Hush, little one," Shard said gently. "I know you tried. I know you did not mean to hurt anything. But Donatello…" She gave him another sip of tea, and then stroked his cheek softly. "I wish you had come to me and asked." Setting the tea down, she wrapped her arms around him. "I would have brought you something a little less precious to dismantle."

He looked up at her, his brown eyes wide. "You would?"

She smiled, and licked his upturned face. "Of course I would." Rocking him gently, she sighed a little. "In the morning, we shall take a look at it together, hmmm? Would that suit you?"

"Oh," he breathed. "Oh, yes,  _Kaasan_."

She smiled. "Very well. But first, I think a night of sleep is in order."

He hesitated a moment before he wriggled a hand out of the towel to rest against hers. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

"Of course you may," she answered.

In the end, though, Donatello was not alone. It was Michelangelo who crept into her room first and silently began to help Donatello brush the mats out of her fur. Leonardo and Raphael were not far behind, however, and the end of the night found all four of her babies piled together on her bed, with Shard curled around them, purring softly. As her children began the quiet snores that told her they had reached deep slumber, she resolved to put things right in the morning.

* * *

But putting things right would be harder than Shard anticipated. Though she and Donatello worked for hours, they could not reassemble the record player. Her disappointment was great – many long days had passed to the sounds of the recording of Japanese lullabies she had found as she nursed her colicky babies through their childhood illnesses. She would miss the joy that music provided more than she could express. But she did not let her disappointment show as she knelt next to her son, rubbing gentle circles on his shell as he fought back his tears.

"It is all right, Donatello," she said. "You tried your best."

"It's  _not_  all right," he protested. "I made you sad."

Shard just gathered him into her arms, holding him tightly. "Come with me, my son." Not giving him a choice, she carried him to her futon, where the forgotten satchel from the night before lay. She set him down on the mattress and reached for the bag, pulling it open to reveal the prize within.

In addition to food and batteries, two of their most basic necessities, she had found something for her second-youngest son in particular. She watched his eyes go wide as he took the book she offered him, brushing his fingers over the waterlogged title.

_INTRODUCTION TO UNIVERSITY PHYSICS_

"For me?" he whispered.

Shard nodded. "If you do not possess the knowledge to fix our little problem now," she said, gesturing to the dismantled record player. "Perhaps it is time that you learned it."

Donatello's eyes began to water. Setting the textbook reverently aside, he leaped up and threw his arms around her neck, burying his head against her. "Thank you, _Kaasan_."

She stroked the back of his head, her other arm holding him to her. "You are welcome, my son."

* * *

As she watched Donatello over the next several days, Shard could not help the pang of guilt that spread through her. She had diligently worked to keep her babies fed and warm over the years, but she had neglected one very important aspect. Donatello's mind had been starving. As she watched him work his way through the textbook, ravenous for each successive chapter, she could not believe that she could ever have missed his thirst for knowledge that the textbook only just began to address. Every so often, she could expect to hear another outburst of "did you know sound is actually waves travelling through air particles,  _Kaasan?"_ or "did you know that the lines in your record are just one big spiral?" And she welcomed them, glad to foster the burning desire for learning that she had been sorely neglecting.

But even as she acknowledged this, she still was not prepared for the moment he came to her and asked, "if I could create a sound wave that was 180 degrees out of phase with an original sound, would that make it sound like there wasn't any sound at all?"

She stared at him, bemused, before laying a hand on his head. "I do not know, my son," she said gently. "Why don't you go check your book?"

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes wide, before he toddled off to do so, and Shard watched him go with an ache in her heart. Oh, she had known Donatello's mind was special. But she'd had no idea of the depth of intellect that lurked beneath the unassuming exterior. Small wonder he grew frustrated so easily with his brothers, if his mind was operating at the speed she suspected.

Her baby boy was a genius. And he was stuck living beneath the streets of a city that would cast him out, trying to make do with scraps that the city threw away.

Shard redoubled her efforts on her scavenging runs, bringing back as many books and instruction manuals as she could find, old electronics for him to disassemble, and in a rare exchange with her network, several new textbooks as well. And as he voraciously devoured each new offering in the weeks that followed, she could not help watching him with a pang of sorrow.

It was not easy for a parent when their child finally surpassed them. She had not thought it would happen with any of her sons at the age of six. And yet, the concepts Donatello was doodling on the papers she brought him and on the walls when he ran out of that were far beyond her ability to comprehend.

She felt… unnecessary.

* * *

It was another night much like the first that found Shard dragging herself home through the tunnels, weary and exhausted, but with enough scavenged food to get them through the next few days. She was exhausted, and all she wanted to do was rest and meditate to her music. And felt another pang of regret at the loss of the record player that had gotten her through so many difficult nights.

But when she pushed her way through the turnstiles, she was greeted not by the enthusiastic faces of her sons, but by the [strains of a Japanese lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B27yQMuTHWc) weaving through their underground home. Her eyes wide with disbelief, she followed it to the dojo, where Leonardo sat with Raphael and Michelangelo beneath the tree, listening with rapt attention.

Donatello sat in the doorway to her room, his face turned within, listening to the record she had used to lull them to sleep so many times. He turned to her, a beatific smile on his face, and said, " _Kaasan,_ I did it."

Shard was a cross the room in two steps, scooping him into her arms and covering his face with feline kisses as he giggled and feigned a protest. "So you did," she said, snuggling him close to her. "So you did, my Clever Baby."

She held out one arm, and the other three children bolted across the room, piling into her embrace. And as she held all four of them close, listening to the sweet strains of the lullaby, she reflected that perhaps it was not such a bad thing for a child to outshine his mother. Rather, it was the most perfect gift she had ever received.

"[Shard's baby Donnie](http://melty-art.tumblr.com/post/88315314354/)" by melty94


	4. Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't so much an original story as a re-framing of the events of the Season 1 finale in the Shardverse. I had to write this after the finale, to explore how it would have gone down with Shard. I enjoy the idea of Catmum royally kicking butt. I also have this idea that she's got pretty fierce claws and knows how to use them.

 

It was still there.

Her steps silent, she entered the deep cavern where the gnarled stump sat, a withered reminder of a time when this tunnel had been exposed to the light. Fifteen years ago, there had still been traces of green on it. It was from those shoots that she had cultivate the tree that now grew in her home. But now it was withered. Lifeless.

Slowly, she stripped out of her obi and kimono until she stood in her juban, and stared down at the wraps on her hands. She had scrubbed well when she had returned home, but she could still feel the blood beneath her claws, and so she had slipped away from the victory celebration, seeking a channel for the torrent of emotion within her.

* * *

_"Why must you persist in this insanity?"_

_"Because you let Hamato Yoshi take you from me! And then I bear the double humiliation to find you would pretend to be dead rather than be with me once he was gone!"_

_Her lip had curled back in a snarl as she tugged her blade free. Even his words felt like a violation. "I was never yours!"_

* * *

Slowly, she began to move through the forms, attempting to clear her mind. Clean, precise, she struck at the withered trunk as the scene played over and over in her head. She had worn the dark abaya she used for scavenging runs, which at the very least gave her more freedom of movement and was far less conspicuous, and it had hidden her. Mostly. But when she had cast aside her headscarf and he had seen what lay beneath and called her hideous. And  _still_ he persisted.

Her breath quickening, her strikes became looser, blunter, angrier as she faced her memories yet again.

* * *

_"If you defeat me, you will have nothing!"_

_She had meant it. But his laughter then had chilled her. She had never heard anything like it from him. Not when he had called her friend and she had cared for him as a brother. It was a laugh filled with hate. And with vile secrets._

_"Yoshi took something from me. As you then took my pride. So I took something from you both."_

* * *

A ragged breath burst from her as she struck, over and over. Her claws had come out then. That was the worst of it. For in that moment, there had been hope. He had taken Miwa, but she was alive. As long as there was that hope, she could defeat him. She could find her child and put her family back together as it always should have been.

Foolish, blind hope. But then, she had always looked for the bright side of things. How was she to know?

She should have known. The Shredder specialized in taking the light from her life. Yoshi. Miwa. April.

The forms were long gone now. Low, gutteral growls tore from her throat as she clawed at the gnarled wood and it broke into splinters beneath her talons. As the Shredder's armour had torn beneath them. As his flesh beneath that. Until a sword had barred her way.

* * *

_"That cat is Tang Shen!"_

_Fool that she was, she had a brief moment of joy as the truth hung like a shining star between them._

Yes, my beloved child, your mother is here!

 _But only seconds later the joy was extinguished as Miwa… as_ Karai _… rounded on her with undisguised loathing._

 _"Father told me what you did! You let us think that Hamato Yoshi was the traitor all these years, but it was you! You would have killed me and my father so that you could be with Hamato_ ,  _rather than have me live to know your shame." The child's eyes — familiar, beloved eyes — narrowed as she braced for the killing stroke._

_"Well, now I return the favour."_

* * *

Her daughter, her precious one, the light of her life, tried to kill her. The web of lies Saki had woven lay so thick around her that Shard knew no words she spoke could have reached her baby girl. And so she had fled, like the coward Miwa branded her, rather than have any more of her blood stain the child's blade. For now that she knew the truth, Shard could not raise a hand against her.

Sagging to her knees, she looked at the devastation she had wrought. The hapless tree stump lay shattered and in pieces, but the horrible, screaming rage within her was spent. She could return now, to the smiling faces of her children, radiant in their celebration. She could resurme the mask of their serene Sensei, and keep this terrible truth inside until she could figure out a solution.

And there would be a solution. Now that she knew her daughter was alive, there was no power on this earth that would keep her from trying to get her back.

[Face of Rage: Shard](http://mizu-inu.deviantart.com/art/Face-of-Rage-Shard-404116910) by MizuInu


	5. Twitchy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little Shardbaby drabble, from before they found the subway station.

She shuddered again as the low reverberations of the subway above shook the concrete floor beneath her, and she drew the old, patched blanket more closely around her three sleeping charges. The abandoned utility room had suited her purposes adequately for some time, but she simply had to find a better solution. It was dry, and warmer than the rest of the tunnels, but it was simply no place for four growing children.

And that was, most definitely, what they were. There was no denying it anymore. Gazing fondly down at the three bundled into the nest of blankets, she reached down to trace a finger over the edge of one little shell, very mindful of the tip of her claw. Gently, she pulled Michelangelo's fist out of his mouth and loosened Raphael's stranglehold on Leonardo, watching in satisfaction as all three burrowed more comfortably together.

It was then that she became aware of a brush against the tip of her tail, and she turned to look for Donatello.

He often woke before the others, the smallest of her little ones, and took longer to fall asleep, but she was content to let him roam. He always did so quietly, his wide brown eyes drinking in the multitude of wonders he found in the world. He had been content to investigate a small beetle that had been crawling across the floor, but she supposed that the beetle had escaped to greener pastures, for now Donatello's attention had turned to the twitching tip of her tail.

She had an uneasy relationship with her tail, and had since the day of her mutation. Though she had gradually gained control of every other aspect of her new, twisted form, the tail had stubbornly maintained a mind of its own, acting seemingly of its own volition every time she took her mind off it. And yet, as she watched, it twitched out of the way just as Donatello pounced, leaving him blinking at his empty hands in confusion.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as he readied himself again, his tiny tongue protruding from his mouth, so great was his concentration. He kept his keen eyes fixed on the curling plume of black fur, and readied himself. Then, as the tail relaxed along the floor, he leaped.

Twitch.

Again, he missed, and the look of utter outrage on his face at her tail's effrontery threatened to bring a laugh from her. Again, her stubborn little one focused on the tail, but this time, she and the tail were in accord. Each time he leaped, her tail twitched closer and closer to where she knelt next to the nest of his brothers. Each time, he pursued it, until at last, his final leap brought him within her reach. And as he leaped that last time and her tail twitched out of the way, she caught him up firmly against her chest.

"I have caught you, my little one! And now I shall eat you up!"

Donatello giggled in delight as she played at gobbling him up, his little feet drumming against her even as his fingers curled into the soft fur at her chest. And when at last she wore him out and he sagged against her, burrowing himself into her fur, he was still gazing at her infuriating twitchy tail.

She smiled, resting her chin atop his head as she drew the ragged robe she wore around him to fend off the chill. Yes, she would have to find a better solution than this. Her children deserved more than a dusty old cupboard with only the light of a dim bulb to chase away the darkness. They deserved a place of light and laughter, with room to grow and to play. She licked the top of Donatello's head, causing him to blink sleepily up at her and reach up to pat her cheek as a silly little smile drifted across his features. Carefully, she lowered him down and nestled him in with the others, laughing softly as the tangle of limbs shifted and reconfigured to absorb their weary brother. Drawing her last blanket over the lot of them, she ran a soft finger across Donatello's head, and with a tiny yawn, he drifted off with the rest of them.

She would find them something better. She had to, for she was getting far to twitchy to stay here. Curling around her sleeping children, she allowed the purr to begin deep within her chest and lull them back to dreaming. Tomorrow, she would find a place to call home.

[Mother and child](http://sleepypumkin.tumblr.com/post/100377712153/because-fantasiawanderings-master-shard-is) by sleepypumpkin


	6. One of Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wee drabble from Season Two, just after April returns to the lair. post "Target: April O'Neil"

She recognized the softness of the hesitant footfall outside her door, and her heart ached just a little at it; it had been far too long. Drawing a deep breath to help her rise out of deep meditation, she opened her eyes slowly. "Come in, April."

Blue eyes peeped around the doorframe before April came fully into the room, bearing a tea tray in front of her, and Shard recognized the sweet scent of her favourite tea. "Hi,  _Sensei._  I thought…. I mean, I wondered if you might like…."

"That is very thoughtful," Shard said, sparing the child any further fumbling, and with a look of gratitude, April knelt and set the tray down in its usual position between them. Afternoon tea had become something of a tradition between them before the unfortunate incident with her father, and Shard had missed that, too. She moved the cups into place and began to pour, but a look on April's face stopped her. Setting the pot down, she tilted her head. "What is wrong, child?"

"I just…" April wrung her hands together in her lap, her face turned away. "I missed everyone, and… I mean, I  _know_  they tried their best but… _"_

But pain like the loss of a father was not undone in a day. But anger at how the news of the boys' responsibility had been broken, spoken without thinking, driving deep into the already raw wound caused by Kirby's loss, left scars that did not heal easily. But involvement with this family had cost April nearly as much as she had gained from it. But she was angry, and afraid, and relieved, and confused, and still functionally an orphan…

Shard quietly moved the tea tray to the side and reached out, wrapping a hand around April's small ones, stilling them in her lap. "April, child." Her hand tightened just a little; Shard was very mindful of her claws, but April's hands were so cold. "I  _understand._ "

Those blue eyes welled with tears for a moment before April moved, and Shard caught her close, letting the heartsore child bury her head against Shard's fur so that she could pretend that Shard had not seen her crying. Holding her tightly, Shard let one hand stroke the shining red hair as she murmured soft reassurance. "I know, April. I know. I am here. I've got you."

There was a word never spoken between them. A title reserved for another woman, worthy of the name, missed but not forgotten. But rarely, very rarely, there was another word that April had begun to use with Shard. Shy, and tentative, she had always paused before using it, testing out its fit. And that was the word that drifted up from her now as she trembled against her sensei, the words so quiet and muffled against Shard's fur that Shard almost lost them.

"I missed you,  _Kaasan._ "

Shard smiled against the top of April's head, the deep thrum of her purr rocking them both as the light from the grate above them bathed them in warmth.

"Welcome home, my daughter."


	7. Creature Comforts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little scene post- "Kraang Conspiracy". The record mentioned is one given to her by Kirby, played by the fabulous scientist-k-oneil, who headcanoned that April's mother was a cellist, and recorded an album of Japanese lullabies and other songs. In Shard's canon, despite the little time they had together, Shard and Kirby became good friends.

The process of brushing out her fur could be long and tedious, and she often saved it for the end of the day. The ease of repetition gave her time to think, particularly on days such as this, that had brought more questions than answers.

The record that played softly in the background, the one Kirby had given to her, provided a gentle counterpoint to the strokes as she knelt on her futon, her houmongi lying in a pool of silk around her waist. She had a number of electric lights in her room, courtesy of her thoughtful sons, but on this night, she preferred the softer flickering glow of the lanterns. Their light wavered and danced, casting stars about the room as she drew the brush slowly through her fur.

Her ear twitched, and she glanced toward the door.

"It is cold tonight," she said softly. "But I promise, it is much warmer in here."

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then the door slid slowly aside, and Shard was not surprised to see the drawn, pinched face that greeted her. The shadows that stirred within April's eyes tore at her heart, and Shard quietly set the brush aside as April turned to slide the door closed again. Then, as April turned back to her, her face a mask of uncertainty, Shard opened her arms.

April hesitated only for a moment before she crossed the room in two steps, and Shard closed her arms around her. Tremors wracked the girl's body as Shard raised a soft hand to stroke her hair, and Shard held her close as April buried her head against her  _Sensei's_  chest.

"Oh, my bright baby," Shard whispered softly. The scent of April's fear and confusion clung to her, thick as cobwebs, and a cold rage filled her. She wished nothing more than to sink her claws into the ones who had done this to the poor child. To have called into question one's parentage, one's humanity, all in one day. She could only guess how much the poor child missed her mother in this moment. The questions she must have… but Shard had no answers for her.

"There now," Shard soothed, rocking her gently. "I know of exercises to strengthen the mind as well as the body. We shall begin work in the morning." She bent her head and licked April's brow. "I know it seems dark now, dear one. But there is and end to this storm. You are not alone."

" _Sensei_ ," April's voice quavered as she spoke. "What am I going to do?"

"You will remember this very important thing," Shard said. April raised her head at that, and Shard took April's face very gently between her hands. "You will remember that no matter what the circumstances of your birth, no matter what the composition of your blood, you are, always have been, and always shall be April O'Neil. And you will remember also that you are ours as we are yours, and as long as you are with us, you, my sweet girl, are  _loved."_

The enormous blue eyes that gazed up at her filled with tears, and Shard released her, taking hold of her once again as she buried her head against Shard's fur.

"Thank you," came the muffled voice against her shoulder. " _Kaasan."_

A wistful smile touched Shard's face as she held the girl close. There were words April could not bring herself to say. Words still reserved for another. But she had found other ways over the last year to express herself, and Shard knew the gifts for what they were.

_I love you too, my bright one._

Sighing softly, Shard settled the child more comfortably against her, and let her mother's music work its soothing magic on them both.


	8. Another Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you show love for someone without feeling like you've abandoned another? April and Shard must both come to terms with this question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story could not have been written without my friend Mel, aka Melty94, who roleplays as August O'Neil. When we started this story, it was to explore how August meets Shard. But something wonderful happened, and I realized that I wanted to adopt it into Shard's official canon with April, as it so perfectly illustrates the difference between Shard's Karai and canon Karai, and why Karai hates April so very much. Mel graciously agreed to let me storify it. I've edited it somewhat so that it makes sense for April rather than August, and to smooth out the transitions between roleplays a bit, but for the most part, except for the final scene, Karai and Shard are written by me, and April (originally as August) was Mel.
> 
> This takes place around Christmas time during Season Two.

April took a deep breath and pushed open the door of the art store with her free foot, all while trying to balance the load of bags filled with art and decorative supplies that she held.

Grunting under their weight, April began to wonder just how much more money she could  _possibly_  spend on supplies before actually getting a chance to get Christmas gifts for her adoptive family. Shaking her head, April sighed. No matter. If it made Mikey happy, then it made April happy. That excited smile on his face when he was excited could brighten anyone's day.

April bit her lip as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Careful not to slip on the ice and sleet that covered the ground around her, April's thoughts drifted back to Mikey's words the day before.

_"Remind me, why exactly are we making this card? You guys don't really celebrate Christmas, right?"_

_Mikey pulled out a red marker and started to color the ornaments he had drawn on the Christmas tree in his picture before responding. "Well, no. But_ you _do! And unless TV lied to me, everyone knows you're supposed to make Christmas cards for your mom."_

_"Shard's...not my mom, Mikey."_

_"Well, yeah," Mikey laughed. "But she's_ like _your mom, right?" Motioning towards the green marker, he added, "can you pass that over?"_

_April nodded, passing the marker to him as she considered that. A thought teased at her that had been bothering her more and more since her Dad's disappearance, and normally she would have jammed it down like she always did and not even thought about voicing it… but she and Mikey were alone, and he was probably the least judgemental person she knew when it came to that sort of thing. And something about his open innocence as he coloured the card gave her the courage to speak when she would normally have kept silent._

_"Mikey...do you think I'm replacing my mom?"_

_He paused, setting down his marker as he looked at her. It wasn't often that she got his undivided attention, but when the full force of those blue eyes turned on her, sometimes it felt like he was looking straight into her heart. "Well… I've got a bunch of brothers. But I don't think having more than one brother means I like any of 'em any less. Except maybe when Raph's being a jerk. Or Donnie's being a know-it-all. Or Leo's being… Leo." He tilted his head. "Maybe it's the same way with moms. I've only ever had the one, but lots of people have two parents and like them both, right?"_

_"Oh." April leaned forward, looking at Mikey's card. A black-and-white cat was stationed on the center of the page, while a turtle wearing orange was placed to the right of her, and a red-headed human stood to her left, all of them, dwarfed by the Christmas tree in the background. April smiled._

_"You're a pretty smart cookie, Mikey."_

_"Well duh! Finally_ someone  _realizes this! Hey, do you think you can stop on your way from school tomorrow and grab some art stuff? I need sparkles for the tree and envelopes and colored paper an-"_

_"Yeah yeah." She rubbed the top of his head lightly. "I got you covered."_

April shook her head and smiled _. Oh, Mikey._ Trust the one turtle she thought she could count on for simple conversation to give her complex metaphysical concepts to pick her way through. She'd have to sit down and give it some serious thought at some point, but for now, she had to focus on getting these supplies back to Mikey. He was absolutely dying to get his Christmas cards done, and promised that there were New Year's cards to make afterward, which were apparently even more exciting.

Turning the corner, April couldn't help but let her thoughts once again drift back to the cat on the card. It was such a sweet, innocent family scene. So why did part of her feel like she was betraying her mother's memory by letting herself be part of it?

A tingle suddenly began in the back of April's mind. Startled, the teenager stopped in her tracks and rubbed her forehead. An odd sensation ran through her body, giving her goosebumps and making her feel funny. Still, April dismissed it as a side-effect of her complicated thoughts and proceeded down the sidewalk. But regardless of her efforts to ignore the feeling, it still lingered in the back of her mind, growing bigger and bigger until…

_Danger!_

Crying out in confusion, April closed her eyes tightly, the bags falling to the ground as she rubbed her temples in an effort to banish the sensation that refused to be ignored. Taking a few steps back, April looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from. It was a feeling of being watched, and she didn't like it.

* * *

Again, despite every resolution that she wouldn't look at it again, Karai pulled the crumpled photograph out from its hiding place, smoothing the creases where she had balled it up countless times to throw it away.

But she could never bring herself to do it.

The dark eyes of the woman in the photo stared back at her, and once again, Karai could not reconcile the kindness and warmth in the woman's gaze with the heartless betrayal she had perpetrated. And yet, there it was. Her father had told her all the lies the deceitful woman would use to try to cover up her dishonour. She would claim that Saki had been cruel to her. That she had been forced to flee to save Karai's life. Worst of all, that Saki was not her father. Truly, there was no end to Tang Shen's treachery. In the end, the truth was there for all to see. Shen had faked her own death,  _abandoned_  her only child, because of the dishonour she had brought upon herself by being disloyal to her husband with the dead man, Hamato Yoshi. A man her father had once called friend.

_Mother…why?_

A wave of fury surged through her, and she crumpled the photo, disgusted with herself for acknowledging the relationship, even in her own thoughts. That  _creature_  was not her mother. She had given up all right to be so when she had left Karai behind.

And yet…

Karai still couldn't bring herself to throw the photo away. Sighing, she tucked it back where it had been and again cursed her weakness.

She stood, surveying the city below from her perch on the water tower as she readied herself to return home. She could not be gone long; her father was trusting her to lead the Foot, and she would not disappoint him again. But even as she readied herself, she caught a flash of familiar red hair down below.

A slow, lazy smile curled her lip. "Well, at least this night's not a total loss."

She had promised her father she wouldn't go looking for the turtles or their little friend anymore until his return. But he hadn't said anything about seizing the opportunity when their little princess wandered straight into Karai's grasp.

* * *

"Who's there!?" April called out. Hand falling to her jacket, she reached around for her tessen, only to realize in horror that she had left it in her room. April cursed quietly. Taking a look around and scanning the rooftops, she swallowed hard as what appeared to be a shadowy figure shot across the gap between the buildings above her.

_Crud._

Leaping from the water tower, Karai vaulted the gap between buildings and threw herself down a fire escape into April's path.

"Hey there princess." Karai folded her arms, giving her a good looking over. "Doing some Christmas shopping?"

Backing up, April held out her hands in front of her in a defensive stance.  _Shoot. Not good not good..._  April's breath hitched a little before she recovered herself, drawing her mask of disdain firmly into place. "Yeah, well, you know. That's what you do when you're not evil and you have people who actually care about you."

Karai's expression darkened. "And who would that be? I heard your Dad's a bat now. But hey, that's cool, I don't judge. If you're down with getting dead rats in your stocking or whatever, more power to you." Shifting her stance, Karai drew her katana, gazing over the blade with a grin. "I had something a little different in mind for my holiday celebrations. Forget about the Kraang; I bet the Cat will come out of hiding to get her little princess back."

Karai's grin widened as she feinted toward April, clearly enjoying the sensation of watching her flinch.

And then,  _bam,_ in a split-second, Karai was in front of April, catching her off-guard. April may not have been as skilled as Karai, but she _was_  catching on fast, and instantly tried to recall what Shard had been teaching her for the past few months.

_Watch your opponent. Move fast. Think later._

Stumbling backward, April clenched her teeth and tried her best to react hastily to Karai's movements, but to no avail. She moved too quickly, her motions much too swift and agile for April to read.

Before she knew it, Karai was in front of her, swinging her blade at April's head. April gasped and ducked, impulsively stretching her back as far as she could go. With a small thrill of victory, April realized that she had successfully avoided Karai's first swing, but her victory was short lived.

As soon as April came out of her backstretch, Karai had swung again - much harder this time - and brought the pommel of her blade across April's right temple.

April reeled and cried out as the sword came into contact with her skin. Feeling the harsh bite of steel against her head, April staggered for a moment or two before feeling her knees start to buckle beneath her. Collapsing onto the sidewalk, she moaned and raised a hand to the area where Karai struck, blinking in order to clear her blurred vision.

_Wha-what happened?_

Pulling her hand back down from her head, April dizzily eyed the warm, red liquid that oozed across her fingertips. She was  _bleeding_. And it must be bad, in order for that much blood to show. Looking down, she could see drops of red staining the pavement. Feeling her head begin to pound violently and her heart begin to race, April attempted to stand, only to fall back on her knees again and moan in pain. Lifting her eyes, she could barely make out Karai's form in front of her before she started feeling a faint coming on. This wasn't good.

Seconds later, everything went black.

* * *

Karai stared down at the unconscious girl at her feet, prodding her with a toe and getting no response. Rolling her eyes, she pulled out her phone and summoned the Footbots she had at her disposal. "That was easier than I thought," she muttered. "Sad, really."

As she waited for her minions to arrive, she picked up the bags that April had dropped and examined their contents. Her brow furrowed as she sorted through them. Sparkles… shiny paper…. were they doing  _arts and crafts_  now? Karai dropped the bags in disgust, refusing to acknowledge the deep, dark corner of herself that wondered would it would be like to have a family so insipidly...domestic.

Glancing down at the unconscious teenager, Karai rolled her eyes again and knelt next to her with a grunt of frustration. Yanking off the the sash around her waist, Karai used it to bind the little princess's head wound. It wouldn't do to have April lose too much blood before Karai had a chance to set her trap. April was going to die, of course, but Karai had something much more interesting planned on that front than just bleeding to death in an alley. Something far more poetic, at any rate. And bait was much more effective when it was still breathing.

As the shadows that were her robotic soldiers fell around her, she stood and planted a hand on her hip. "Take her to the dojo and make her… comfortable," she said, her lip curling in delight at the thought. It was high time the little princess learned that not everyone was going to treat her like some perfect little porcelain doll.

As the soldiers moved to comply, one of them picking up the fallen bags — like good little ninja robots, they didn't leave anything behind - Karai stopped them with a raised hand and drew one of her tanto, using it to saw off a lock of that bright hair. That task accomplished, she let the Footbots bear their unconscious captive away, while she descended to the sewers to set up her invitation.

She had no idea where the turtles and their cat sensei holed up, but she had a vague idea of how to get close. She paused in the tunnels, surveying them critically. It had been a while since she had confronted April on this spot, but the memory of it was still raw and vivid, and she cursed the Kraang yet again for robbing her of the opportunity to do away with the spoiled brat when she had the chance.

Shaking off the memories, Karai left the first element of her invitation. She moved several paces down the tunnel before setting up the second part, and she was almost to the surface before she heard the explosion behind her. A satisfied smile crossed her face. Let the treacherous cat try to ignore  _that_. Laughing in delight, she headed topside to see if her captive had come 'round yet. She had some serious gloating to do.

* * *

Shard was deep in meditation when the explosion rocked the tunnels, jolting her back to waking with a gasp. Seizing her staff, she was on her feet and running even as the rumbling faded, cursing the fact that her sons were off on a training mission deep in the tunnels. This was far more their territory than hers, but she could not let something of that magnitude go uninvestigated, not when the safety of her home was at stake.

She slowed as her sensitive nose picked up the scent of smoke and ash, but as she peered carefully around the corner of the next tunnel, keeping to the shadows, it appeared her stealth was unnecessary. The tunnel was deserted.

Still, she was cautious as she approached the source of the explosion. And well that she was, for she might have missed the bright flash of red otherwise, half buried beneath rubble as it was. But it caught her eye, and she bent to brush the dust away from it.

As the dust cleared, she drew back with a cry of alarm. She would know the colour of that hair anywhere. And the note beneath could have come from only one hand.

_We're long overdue for a chat, Mother. Meet me at the dojo by midnight. Alone. Or the redhead dies._

* * *

_"Take her to the dojo and make her…comfortable."_

April couldn't remember much of anything after Karai's harsh words; there was only a blur of noise and sound, and the feel of cold arms and hands that hurt as she faded in and out of consciousness. She didn't fully return to herself until she was carelessly tossed to the floor.

The giant, cold metallic hands of her kidnappers roughly grabbed her arms and began binding her to one of the beams that held up the room they were in. The throbbing pain in her head kept her docile as a robot pulled her hands around behind the beam and bound them tightly. She cringed once or twice as the ropes bit into her skin, but it was hard to muster much fight given the pain in her head.

It was when the robots were finished that April finally decided to try to open her eyes. Pushing herself to inch up against the wood, she slowly forced her eyes open in order to get a look around her. Vision still slightly blurred, April squinted her eyes at her surroundings before gasping in surprise. The room was relatively dark, but April could see that it was a dojo. And not just any dojo,  _Bradford's_  dojo. The guys had told her what it looked like - Mikey in some great detail after his first triumphant visit there - but she'd never been there until now. She sighed quietly. She'd pictured her first visit more as part of a stealthy ninja rescue team. Not trussed up like a Christmas turkey.

Looking to both sides, April also took note of the Footbots that guarded her. They stood upright, hands folded behind their backs as they stared emotionlessly in front of them. Two robots were also stationed directly in front of April before they stepped aside to reveal their commander.

April breathed in slowly and heavily before gazing on the face on her smug captor.

_Karai._

The girl stared at April from where she sat, expression mocking and a crooked smile across her lips, almost  _amused_  by April's crippling pain.

Feeling her eyelids begin to droop, April let out a soft, involuntary sound of dismay, suddenly feeling incredibly heavy, as if her body was being pulled down by an anchor. Her head was hurting much worse now, and she could barely keep her eyes on Karai. This was  ** _not_**  what she had planned for this afternoon. In fact, April thought, as a slight wave of panic washed over her, she'd be lucky if she could even get out of this  _alive_.

"You're, you're a j-jerk, y-you know that?" April uttered weakly from where she sat. Even the small movement of speaking jogged her, and she moaned again as her head began to scream once more. Succumbing to the pain, April let her head sink back against the wood. Better not to move anyway.

"Hey, would a jerk do this?" Rising to her feet, Karai plucked a long metal pole from the hands of one of her Footbots, examining the purple tip for a moment before jabbing it into April's ribs. April jerked against the ropes, a whimper escaping her as pain exploded across every nerve ending. She gritted her teeth together, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes as she fought against the pain, fought to keep from crying out. Karai grinned as the purple energy from the Kraang device flowed through April like a powerful shock, and then withdrew the tool. Kneeling next to April, Karai tugged off the bandage around April's head, brushing at the dried blood to reveal the newly-closed wound underneath.

"Pretty sweet, huh?" Waggling the rod in front of April's face, Karai reached out with her free hand and tousled April's hair, bringing a scowl to April's face in response. "The Kraang made it. Apparently their human test subjects are 'too fragile for the tests of Kraang' or something, so they made this to patch them up when they got broken."

"W-what?" April uttered breathlessly. Staring, April shook her head at Karai in disbelief.  _You slice open my head, drag me here, tie me up, then_  heal  _me_?  _Unbelievable._  The area still felt a little swollen and achy, but much better. It was as if the cut had never been there in the first place. "What do you  _want_  already?"

Tossing the device back to her Footbot, Karai stood and folded her arms. "Sorry, little princess. Can't have you passing out on me before she gets here. This is going to be way more effective if you're alert enough to call for help." She grinned. "Feel free to scream, by the way. Makes the whole thing more dramatic."

As Karai continued to speak, April shook her head in bewilderment at her, slowly beginning to lean forward, rubbing her wrists together in the most un-obvious way possible. Maybe, just  _maybe_  if she kept talking, April could loosen her binds. But Karai finally finished speaking; April froze and shifted her shoulders uncomfortably.

"You're  _kidding_  me." She raised an eyebrow at Karai, completely unimpressed with her words. "You seriously think I'm going to  _scream_?" Rolling her eyes, she shifted her hands behind her, wriggling her wrists harder.  _Geez, why is this so_ difficult _?_ "Sorry, but I'm not playing your damsel in distress, Karai."

Karai just grinned at her, making April's blood run cold. "Challenge accepted, princess."

* * *

The robots set to guard the building went down without even registering that she was there. Laughable, really. They had been programmed to adapt to a warrior's fighting style, but that meant little if the warrior beheaded them with her blade before they could detect her.

Keeping to the shadows, Shard eased herself forward until she could see the room beyond. There was Karai, flanked by her little toys, standing and gloating over her bound and helpless captive.

_April..._

Her heart twisted within her as she watched the daughter of her blood tormenting the daughter of her heart, and for a moment, indecision froze her. But when Karai reached out with an alien device, and April's little frame twisted in agony, that act of cruelty freed her of any indecision. She wanted her daughter back, more than words could possibly hope to express, but she could not simply step back and let April suffer through Shard's own self-doubt.

Shard reached into her obi. Seconds later, several kunai flew through the air, dispatching the remaining robots. As they crumpled to the ground and Karai stared at them in shock, Shard stepped into the light, drawing the scarf from her head as she did so.

"Miwa," she said softly. "This is very poor hospitality."

Karai recovered herself quickly, looking up at Shard with a feral grin. "Well then,  _Hahaue_. Why don't you teach me a lesson?"

In another instant, Karai launched herself across the dojo, and the air was shattered by the ringing of blades as mother and daughter met.

* * *

As soon as the Footbots fell and that soft, iron voice filled the dojo, April had been filled with a giddy elation. Master Shard was going to wipe the  _floor_  with Karai. That'd teach her to mess with Sensei's favourite student! Well, favourite female student anyway. But then her sensei's words penetrated her haze of elation and fear, and joy drained slowly away, replaced by a sick dread.

_Miwa?_

Miwa was Karai. Karai was Miwa. No.  _No._

 _Karai was Shard's long lost daughter, and she had been right under their noses all along._ April didn't want to believe it. After everything that they had been through with Karai, her being Shard's daughter just didn't seem right. But the feelings that ran through her told April otherwise. It made sense. As much as April didn't want it to, it made perfect sense. _The battles, the reason why Sensei had acted so strange when the topic of her family came up._

Taking in a deep breath, all she could do was watch helplessly as mother and daughter fought over April's fate

* * *

Shard was a master in her own right, and a seventeen-year-old opponent should have been nothing to her.

But her daughter had an advantage that Shard lacked. Shard was doing everything she could to avoid harming her opponent, but Miwa's blows were fuelled by years of grief, and longing, and hate, and betrayal. And throughout it all, Shard could not help but feel an incredible sense of pride in the grace and accomplishment that Karai displayed. Oh, there were certain skills lacking — skills that only a kunoichi could have taught her — but oh, if Shard could have Miwa under her instruction...

The girl disengaged, rolling to her feet near April with the Kraang device in her hand, rescued from the remains of the nearby robot Shard had destroyed. "You know, these things can't cause any actual damage," she said conversationally. "But I'm told they hurt like hell if they're used on a person more than once." Her eyes narrowed. "Let's find out."

Before Shard could act, the girl reached out and prodded April in the leg, sending a wave of sickly violet energy surging through her.

* * *

April watched with an anxious eye as Karai struck angrily at Shard. Flinching nearly every time Karai almost gave a death blow to the cat, April could almost sense the anger that was coming from her. Karai's face and sharp movements spoke so much about the hurt and grief she had been enduring for the past seventeen years. Seventeen years that she had lived  _without a mother_.

As the battle raged, part of April couldn't help but feel for the girl. Sure, Karai had given her a blow that could have killed her, dragged her to an abandoned school and hurt her even worse, but the resentment and anger Karai held in her heart was somehow understandable. She had been  _lied_  to by the Shredder, and as a result, the girl was only trying to fill a hole in her life and rid herself of the pain she had felt for so many years.

April's thoughts could only continue for so long, because in that moment Karai backed towards her and pointed the Kraang device at April, taunting her mother. April barely had a chance to get a grip on what was happening, for in the next moment, as Shard's eyes widened in horror, Karai prodded the device directly into April's leg.

_"Miwa, stop!"_

April barely heard Shard cry out as Karai pressed the object harder into her leg. Screaming, April's entire body thrashed violently as the waves of purple energy surged through her, burning and crackling against her skin. Karai seemed to take great satisfaction in it, as she gave the device one final push against April's leg before tossing it aside and pressing on Shard again.

* * *

Shard's lunged toward her daughter, but she was already casting the cruel device aside and returning her attention to Shard.

"My name is  _Karai!_ " Enraged, Miwa… no,  _Karai,_  brought her blade up to meet Shard's once more, her expression darkening as Shard drove her away from her prey. "You lost the right to call me  _anything_ when you abandoned me."

"It was not like that," Shard pleaded, hard-pressed to keep up with the flurry of Karai's attack. "The Shredder is not—"

"Stop  _lying_!" Karai leaped back, indicating April with her blade. "How long did it take you before you replaced me with her? What is it? The hair? The sickly sweetness? If dyed my hair and wore cute little clothes, would you give  _me_  the family heirloom tessen?" As Shard pursued, a note of desperation crept into Karai's voice. "You come running for a kid you're not even related to, but you can't even be bothered to find your own  _daughter_?"

"I did not  _know_!" Shard struck, sending the girl reeling. "And when I did, you would not listen! But I am here now."

Karai's eyes narrowed. "Too little. Too late." With a scream of rage, she drove her blade toward Shard.

* * *

Gasping for breath, April groaned as the last of the charge began to fade. Shaking violently from the shock, April cracked open her eyes, observing in dismay as Karai continued to shout at her mother, words of anger and hate dropping from her lips.

Karai believed her mother abandoned her, and despite Shard's pleas for her to let her back into her life, Karai ignored them and stuck harder. It then dawned on April...

Karai  _knew_  Shard was her mother, but she  _wanted_  her mother out of her life.

And seeing this from the perspective of a girl who had lost everything in her life, starting with her own mother, then having her father mutated and as good as lost to her forever... April couldn't understand. It enraged her that Karai was openly turning away a mother who wanted her back, when April couldn't have hers no matter how badly she wanted her. What April wouldn't give to see her mother's smiling face again, to have her back in her life…

Worming her feet underneath her, pushing herself up so that she was now standing, April turned back to the fight just in time to watch Karai driving her blade toward Shard's head, a blow that would surely end her life.

 _That was it._  Feeling the emotions swell up in her heart, April let out a scream of fury. "Hey!" Catching the attention of both Karai and Shard, April could feel her face going red as she shouted. "You think I don't  _know_  what it's like to lose everything?" Her voice grated, and she could feel her throat swell up as she thought of her dad. "I lost the only person who I had left in my  _life_! I'm basically an orphan now thanks to you and the Kraang!" Panting, April could only tug against her restraints and try to fight back the tears that she now felt. "All I've ever _wanted_  is to have my Mother back, and you're just throwing yours away! How  _dare_  you?"

* * *

Help came from an unexpected source in the end. But even as Shard's heart ached at April's plaintive cry, Karai whirled on the girl, her eyes wide, almost as though April had struck her.

"Shut up!" Karai screamed at her. "What do you know? You don't know  _anything!_  I bet your adorable little head is all stuffed full of happy memories with your mother. At least you know you were  _loved_! Do you have any idea what it's like thinking your father's best friend killed your mother, only to find out that she wanted you to die in a fire so that she could hide her shame! How can I know what it's like to lose everything when I  _never had anything!"_

Shard had been inching closer as Karai railed at April but with those final words, Karai whirled back around, her sword meeting Shard's with a ringing clang. "Don't!"

"You must listen," Shard pleaded as Karai's frenzied attack drove her away from April. "Please. Had I know you were alive, there is not a force in this world that could have stopped me from finding you."

Karai's eyes narrowed as she glared at Shard, but her voice was ominously low as she growled, "then prove it."

The girl's hand dipped into her belt, and Shard had only a second to bring up her staff, knocking Karai's wrist even as several shuriken flew toward April. Thanks to Shard's interference, only one found its mark, and that just barely, slicing through April's jacket and scoring a thin red line along her arm, so shallow that the blood only beaded and did not flow. Sighing in relief, Shard returned her attention to her daughter.

But what she saw froze her blood in her veins. For the expression on her daughter's face wasn't one of an opponent thwarted. It was a smile of deep, abiding satisfaction.

"Child," Shard breathed. "What have you done?"

"You ought to know,  _Hahaue." Mother._  Karai wielded the word like a weapon. "After all, you created it. 'Gentle mercy,' isn't that what you called it?" Karai grinned. "Catchy."

 _Gentle mercy._  Shard glanced at April in mounting horror.  _Oh, no. Miwa, no._

"Nice little poison," Karai continued. "No pain. No side effects. Just an hour or so of feeling  _really_  good, and then you drift away to sleep." She looked over at April, the muscles of her jaw clenching a little. "And you never wake up."

* * *

April had flinched and tried to avoid the spinning weapon, but due to the rope holding her fast to the beam, there was nowhere for her to go. She hissed through clenched teeth when the sharp sting of the shuriken grazed her arm before coming to rest in the wall behind her. Letting out her breath in a rush of relief, April looked down at the area before lifting her head to gaze at Karai, and her heart sank as she took in Karai's satisfied grin.

 _Gentle mercy?_  April shuddered as the words dropped into the shocked silence. Eyes falling to her arm, they widened in horror before glancing up and meeting Shard's gaze, and for the first time that day,  _April felt legitimately afraid._  For the look that Shard was giving her was enough to make the pit of her stomach fall in fear, as she realized what Karai had done.

_She…she…_

_She_  poisoned  _me?_

April began to tremble violently, lifting her head to stare in horror at Karai.

_What did I ever do to you?_

Turning back to Shard, April gave her one more look; a scared, lost, look that begged her for rescue _._

_You made this._

_You know what it's going to do to me._

**_Help._ **

* * *

Shard caught April's gaze, and the fear in those deep blue eyes all but broke her heart. She schooled her expression, her own shock and fear fleeing in exchange for calm resolve, and though April could not hear her, she projected comfort and reassurance in hopes that April's strange connection to the universe would carry them to her.

_It will be all right. Do not be afraid. The euphoria will reach you soon. You will feel as if you are entering a pleasant dream._

Only then did she turn back to Karai. "Why?" Shard asked softly. "Why would you do this?"

Her daughter's sword was still drawn, but there was a different expression on her face now, and Shard's heart sank to see it.  _Hope? But why…?_

"I'm giving you a choice, Mother," Karai said, and for the first time, that word was spoken not with biting contempt, but with open earnestness. "It's your poison. You know how to counteract it, but I'm asking you to prove what you said. Prove that you really want me." Karai took a step forward, her brown eyes wide and pleading. "I'm being nice. She'll feel really good at the end. Just let her go. Let her go, and I'll go with you. I'll believe anything you say, I promise. Just prove that you want me. That I haven't… haven't been replaced. Choose _me._ "

Shard's breath caught with a hitch as she stared down into the raw, anguished pain in her daughter's eyes. She could almost have forgiven the Shredder for his actions, for he had saved her daughter from the fire, in the end, and given her a home, and raised her, however dark that upbringing had been. It was not that dissimilar to Shard's own; she had also been raised in a household loyal to the Foot. But that had been when the Foot stood for something very, very different.

And she would never,  _never_  forgive Oroku Saki for the twisted, tortured wreck he had made of her daughter's mind.

She stepped forward, gently pushing Karai's blade aside, and very, very softly cupped the girl's cheek in her hand. Karai flinched a little, as though expecting pain from the gesture, but she did not pull away. Shard's thumb brushed away the tears that slipped down Karai's face, smearing the paint around her child's eyes. Her mask was cracking, and for the first time, Shard could see what lay beneath. And what she saw shattered her already broken heart.

"When you were very small," Shard said, and she could feel the child trembling beneath her hand, "we took you to the sakura festival. And oh, how you laughed as the petals fell around you, as though those flowers were the most glorious thing in all creation. And your laugh… I had never in my life heard a sound that brought me so much pure, intoxicating  _joy._ "

A small sound escaped her daughter, and Shard bent her head. She could no longer kiss, and she did not think that Karai was ready for the gesture that had replaced it, but she pressed her muzzle very lightly to the girl's brow.

"When I looked down into your eyes that day, my little Miwa, I knew that I would never love anything in the world quite the way that I loved you. And I promised us both on that day that I would protect you at all costs. Your body, your life, your honour… and your soul."

" _Kaasan_ ," Karai choked. "I… wait, what?"

But even as realization dawned on Karai, Shard was already dropping the smoke bomb she had plucked from Karai's own arsenal when April had distracted her with her shouted tirade.

Karai screamed, a sound raw with pain and rage, her blade slashing through the smoke, but Shard was already gone. Her claws made short work of the rope binding April, which had already been loosened for her by April's stubborn struggles, and she gathered April into her arms, fleeing into the night as the screams of her daughter chased at her heels.

 _"Come back! You_ traitor!  _I thought you_  loved _me!"_

Fighting back the keen that welled in her throat, Shard dropped into the safety of the sewers, carrying her precious burden with her. For all that she had done, there was still a spark of Miwa left in the twisted shell that was Karai. But if she claimed April's life in cold blood, there would be no coming back. That spark would be extinguished forever.

Shard would protect Miwa at all costs. Even from herself.

Cradling April against her, the child's head bouncing lightly against Shard's shoulder, she raced through the tunnels toward home. There was time enough to administer the antidote to the poison, but little time to waste.

"You are safe now, April. Be at peace, and trust me. I promise, all will be well."

* * *

_April felt weird._

Neither good weird or bad weird, but rather just plain,  _strange_. Shaking herself to see if it would go away on its own, April had diverted her attention away from the fight and back to her arm, embracing a new feeling that came over her, a new feeling that was oddly...

 _Pleasant._  It felt  _good_. April exhaled and slowly felt herself beginning to relax, forgetting about the mother and daughter in front of her, and forgetting the situation at hand.

April felt  _calm_. Like everything was going to be fine.

_But the shuriken, Karai had struck her with it, it could be dead-_

_Calm…_

The room slowly became hazed and swirly, along with the people in it. A heavy dizziness came over her, sleep dragging at her eyes as the images of both Karai and Shard began to fade in front of her. Her legs buckled, and April slowly slid against the beam down to the floor, letting her chin fall against her chest.

She dreamed of her mother. She was safe, and at home, laughing, and loving, bringing a slight smile to the teenager's face. She loved her mother. And for the first time in months, April felt  _happy_. At peace. No more problems for a long while.

Her mother was so happy... April was so happy... The smell of her mother's perfume swirled around her, and her mother's bright blue eyes greeted hers. She was so pretty...

_Oh, so pretty..._

Hands suddenly pulled at her, rough, violent and panicked, pulled her towards them, jolting her away from the gentle thoughts and feelings. April suddenly felt it again - that pang of fear that surged through her system, making her blood turn cold and the pit of her stomach fall.

_And was she...moving?_

Feeling her head bob up and down against another's shoulder, April lifted her gaze, but saw nothing, only a blur.  _Who was carrying her? What was going on? Why did she feel so..._

_A gentle voice. Calm, in the dark..._

_All will be well..._

_..._

_All will be well..._

Those were the last words April could make out before slowly feeling herself slip away.

_Calm..._

* * *

"April," Shard said, her voice smooth and even despite the fact that she was in the process of vaulting the turnstiles. It was the voice reserved for the dojo. The voice that demanded compliance and tolerated no dissent. "You must stay awake, sweetheart. For a little while."

She carried April straight to the kitchen, clearing the table of gadgets and old pizza boxes with a sweep of her hand so that she colud lay the girl out upon it. Quickly, she set a kettle to boil and yanked open her cupboard of supplies, hastily mixing what she needed.

"Talk to me, April. Tell me..." she poured hot water into a mortar and began to pound the ingredients she had selected into a paste while the water finished boiling. "...tell me about your fondest memory. I would like to hear it."

Pulling open the cupboard containing the first-aid kit, she tugged open the box and grabbed the bandages within. Shard's claws made quick work of April's sleeve, baring the thin scratch that would be the cause of so much misfortune. Smearing the warm poultice on the wound, she bound the mixture in place with the strips of gauze from the kit. Then, as the kettle boiled, she reached over and poured the boiling water over the leaves in a second cup. It would take a few minutes for the antidote to reach full potency and cool enough to be drinkable

Returning to April's side, she took the child's hand between hers. "Now, April," she said, gently insistent. "Tell me."

* * *

April was sleepy. No doubt about it. Thoughts seeping in and out of her mind, the world felt hazy around her. Nothing felt clear, and _geez,_ was she tired.

_So tired..._

Fighting back the fatigue that was creeping over her, April flinched when she suddenly heard Shard's voice. Strong and firm it ordered her, commanding her to stay awake.

_But I'm so tired..._

April shuddered as the warmth surrounding her was replaced by cold. Noise as something clattered around her, something else screeching and loud, but the redhead hardly noticed. She slowly felt herself getting lost in the deep memories of her own mind... _safe...secure._

Once again, Shard's voice reached her ears, almost pleading for April to stay with her.

"Tell me about your fondest memory..."

_My fondest memory?_

"I would like to hear it..."

"Mom..." she uttered softly. The image of her mother glanced at her through the fog of memory. She smiled softly at her daughter, bringing her hands down to April's face and stroking her cheek lovingly.

"When I was little...we used...hide underneath..."

Her eyes burned and threatened to spill, but still April continued. "...underneath...the sinks in our-h-home." She stuttered slightly as she spoke, trying to remember. "She'd teach me to do all...this stuff, like crafts and t-tell me stories, bu-" Even as she scanned her mind for a single thought, she felt the sleep dragging her under once more.

Suddenly, a warm hand clasped her own, making April's eyes flutter open in weak surprise. Blinking twice, she could barely make out the face of her caretaker, but it seemed so warm and kind, much like...like...

_Mom..._

Keeping her eyes locked on the blurred form, April struggled to finish. "S-stories, and then Dad would f-find us and cha-se us...b-e fore Mom would make-"

April stopped abruptly in the middle of her sentence and hissed, feeling the pain that suddenly stabbed through her arm. Grunting, she clutched at Shard's hand, seeking reassurance.

_What was happening?_

* * *

Shard smiled as April spoke, and there was but a little sadness in it. Of course her memories would be of her mother. But they kept her talking. Shard stroked April's hand lightly as she stumbled through her story, and clasped it firmly when a flash of pain flickered across her expression.

_Good. The poultice is working._

"Before your mother would make...?" She reached over and plucked the cup from the counter before she stood, shifting April so that she could sit up cradled in Shard's arms and pillowed against the soft fur of her chest.

"You cannot leave a story so unfinished, dear one. It is terribly impolite. But first, you must drink this."

She held the cup to April's lips, letting the steam wreath her head. For that was one of the gentlest mercies of the poison — the toxin itself was usually administered as Karai had done, for the poison was unspeakably bitter. But the antidote... the antidote tasted of sunshine and springtime and a hundred wonderful things.

She knew it well. The final test of a kunoichi's poison was to administer both the poison and the antidote to onesself. Hers was not a profession that lent itself to failure.

"Drink, April. Drink to live. Drink for your mother. For your father. And then finish your tale. For me."

* * *

April writhed in pain as Shard spoke to her, feeling beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead and slowly slide down her face. She could feel it now. That  _burning_  feeling that shot through her arm and made the rest of her body shiver and ache in terrible pain.

Trembling now, April moaned a little as she opened her eyes, her gaze falling on the cup that Shard pressed towards her face. She looked up at her sensei, shaking her head.  _Don't make me drink that, please,_  she silently pleaded. Shard didn't seem swayed in the least as she softly ordered her to consume the liquid.

Those deep green eyes looked intently down at her, firmly ordering her to obey.

_"Drink for your mother."_

Of course, she had no choice. She couldn't argue that. As Shard held the cup to her lips, April hesitantly took a brief sip. But she was so tired, so  _weak,_ she could barely swallow. Choking, sputtering, she coughed half of it back up, wetting her shirt and making her shake violently.

She  _couldn't_  do this.

Shard's soft, furred hand suddenly ran over her forehead and stroked her in comfort, encouraging her to try again. Gasping lightly, April recalled a distant memory of her mother. Many times, she would stroke April's forehead, bringing peace and comfort when she was hurt or unwell...

And now, with Shard gently stroking her brow, April felt like she was _there_  again.

Relaxing beneath the cat's loving touch, April lifted her head and tried again, despite the pain that she now felt in every corner of her body. Swallowing hard, she slowly but surely began to consume the drink bit by bit. She paused every few seconds for breath, but let Shard pour the rest of the antidote into her mouth. Slowly, she became aware of a pleasant euphoria stealing over her again, and the drink reminded her of rainbows, and playtime, and long summer picnics in the park...

When she finished, April collapsed back into Shard's arms and coughed, harder this time, and let her eyes come to a close as she rested against Shard's soft fur.

Taking in a deep breath, she whispered, "Mom...w-would-d m-make d-dinner and we-we'd watch S-space Heroes." Finally finished, April let out a sigh as the bittersweet memory clashed with the strange pleasant fuzziness. Dreams weren't supposed to hurt...

Grasping Shard's kimono in sudden pain, April gasped, a sharp intake of breath.

_Why did she feel so cold, and so...strange?_

Clenching her teeth, April squeezed his eyes shut and leant up against Shard, burying her face in her robes as her arm started to burn once more. "W-what's h-happening t-to me?" she whimpered, in a voice that even she strained to hear. Feeling panic and fear wash over her once again, she clutched tighter at Shard. Her head spun, and the world was becoming a hazy blur once more.

* * *

Shard held April close, offering soothing noises of encouragement as she set the cup down in order to dry the spilled potion from April's face and gently stroke the sweat-soaked hair from her brow. It had been difficult to get her to take the medicine, but Shard had been resolute. She had raised four teenage boys and knew how to deal with a stubborn teenager — she did  _not_  take no for an answer. She would have gotten the antidote into April if it had meant holding her down and pouring it down her throat — but she rather thought it wouldn't come to that.

And like the good girl Shard knew April to be, she finally took her medicine, collapsing against Shard as she finished. Shard wrapped her arms around the child, letting the sleeves of her houmongi drape around her, and smiled she finished her story.

"I have passed many an evening with my own sons that way," she said gently. "It is a pleasant memory, indeed, and I thank you for sharing it with me."

April inhaled sharply, grabbing at the folds of her kimono, and she clucked her tongue lightly as she gathered the girl into her arms. "You are healing, sweetheart," she told her as she carried her up the stairs and through the dojo into her room — the dim candle light from her lanterns there would be kinder on April's eyes as she recovered, as the toxin could leave them somewhat sensitive to light.

She knelt on her futon, tugging blankets around April to cocoon her in warmth, but she did not let her go. Instead, she rocked her gently, stroking her hair as she reached for Shard. Around them, the pinpricks of light from her lanterns painted the room with stars.

"It is all right, April. Relax. The healing can be pleasant if you do not fight it, like a warm breeze on a summer's day." Her purr began, rumbling through the room like soft thunder. "I am here. I will let nothing hurt you. Trust in me, dear one."

Softly, she began to sing. It was an old lullaby, and not in April's native tongue, but it had always brought her children comfort against the fears that lurked in the dark.

* * *

April cuddled against Shard, taking comfort in her purrs. Although her body ached terribly, she felt a strange safeness and security in the feline's loving arms.

And when she sang, April could only listen in quiet awe. She had heard Shard sing before, but not like this. Shard's voice blanketed the room and seemed to flow through her, washing away the pain and the fear and leaving only the gentle euphoria behind.

Letting her head fall limp against Shard's shoulder, the teenager sighed and let her cheek rub against Shard's fur. She was so soft, and strangely, April was reminded of her mother, holding her so long ago as April's cheek rested against the soft sweater that she wore. The love in Shard's voice was like her father's, the way he used to sing to her at night when she was afraid.

Gosh, how she missed them...

And yet, with Shard there and rocking her the way she did, she couldn't help but feel comforted. That there was some hope left. That maybe, not all was lost and she could get her father back someday...

She shivered slightly and tried to open her eyes to gaze upon her caretaker, but her eyes refused to obey. She was exhausted. Struggling to lift her hand despite the pain and weariness, she tugged at Shard's robe to gain her attention. The pleasant fog was fading, and she felt like she was swimming in darkness.

"C-can I sleep?" She felt horribly guilty for interrupting, but she couldn't help it; she could barely stay awake. "My head... I feel terrible..."

"Poor head," Shard murmured gently, smoothing April's hair away from her brow to drop a quick, feline kiss there. "Of course you may sleep, dear one. Let yourself heal, and all will be well when you wake. And fear not; I shall be right here."

She lifted April from where she was cradled against her lap and settled her on the futon, adjusting pillows beneath her head, removing her boots and coat, and making certain that the blankets were tucked firmly around her. April murmured her soft thanks, finally letting herself go. She could sleep safely, secure in the knowledge that no matter what happened, Shard would be there to chase the nightmares away.

* * *

It was a strange thing, Shard thought, as she regarded April. She could not be sure when exactly it had happened, but April's kindness, her bravery, her stubbornness in the face of adversity, had won her over completely.

Rising to her feet, Shard crossed the room to her record player, keeping the volume very low as the soft strains of Japanese lullabies filled the air. She returned to April's side and took the girl's hand carefully between her furred ones. Softly, she raised her voice in song, paving the way to sleep for April as she had done for her own boys so very many times over the years.

True to her word, Shard remained at April's bedside, the child's hand clasped in hers long after the record finished and the room was filled only with the soft hiss of the needle bumping against the run out groove. But getting up to turn it off would require letting go of that hand, and so she stayed, watching as April's breathing evened out and her colour returned to normal.

April would live. She would be fine. And Karai's hands would remain unsullied by the blood of an innocent life.

* * *

April groaned as her eyes eased open; it felt like they'd been spackled shut. As she blinked through the crust around her eyes, a green face swam into view above her.

"April?" She'd know that anxious, uptight voice anywhere, and she felt a huge hand tighten around hers. "Can you hear me?"

"Donnie?" she croaked, and frowned. Her mouth felt like it'd been stuffed full of old gym socks. "Wh-what happened?" She'd...been hurt? Or something. She frowned. It was like her brain was wrapped in wet cotton.

"April." A soft voice, and a dark shape over her. Sensei? Then a damp cloth was over her eyes, wiping that thick crust away, and as April blinked again, her vision cleared enough to make out Shard's concerned face. Mikey knelt at his mother's side, his blue eyes wide and anxious, and Raph and Leo leaned against the walls of the room, both watching her. She felt the colour creep to her cheeks, and wanted to shrink down beneath the blankets, but Shard's hand was on her head. "How much do you remember?" Shard asked gently.

April frowned, trying to force her way through the fog surrounding her memories. "I...I remember Karai. And... and you came to get me. And then..." Her frown deepened, but there was only a white fog where the memories should have been. "My arm hurts. That's it." She glanced anxiously up at Shard.

But Shard just smiled and patted April's hand. "There is nothing to fear. Karai cut your arm, and there was poison in the wound. I have treated you and you will be fine, but this particular toxin has a way of clouding one's mind. It is normal, and will do you no lasting harm."

Shard straightened, looking at her sons. "You four should go and prepare something to help April's recovery. Some tea - the blue tin, I think. And something light to eat." She looked down at Michelangelo. "No pepperoni."

"Awww," Mikey said, but he did as he was told, and if nothing else told April how serious the situation was, it was the fact that he didn't offer anything more than that token protest.

Donnie lingered the longest, reluctant to release her hand, but after a long look from his mother, he finally let go and followed after the others. It wasn't until they were alone that April released the breath she hadn't quite realized she was holding and looked up at Shard. "You came for me," she repeated softly.

"Of course I did." Shard's hand moved gently against her hair. "You are family, child. I would never leave you behind."

"No, but..."

Words drifted through the fog of memory.  _Maybe it's the same way with moms. I've only ever had the one, but lots of people have two parents and like them both, right?_

There was a word the guys used, though April had always been reluctant to do so, warring with feelings of guilt and loyalty. But as her eyes filled with tears, that word rose in her throat, filling her mouth, and she ached with the need to speak it.

" _Kaasan_ ," she whispered. "Thank you..."

And as the tears spilled down her face, she struggled to sit up enough to throw her arms around her sensei and bury her face against that soft fur.

* * *

_Kaasan..._

Shock lanced through Shard as that whispered word broke over her, and she reached out to catch April's trembling form as the girl wept against her. Murmuring quietly, Shard's hand moved over April's back, gently soothing even as she fought to make sense of the snarl of emotions inside her.

After some time, April took a shuddering breath, and Shard's hand stilled in silent encouragement. "Mikey said something the other day," April said. "Something about...about how a daughter can love one mom...without loving the other any less..."

A soft smile crept across Shard's face as she rubbed her cheek against April's hair. "My youngest son can be quite wise in matters of the heart. He surprises us all sometimes."

"Do you..." April raised her head, blue eyes searching Shard's. "Do you mind?"

Shard drew a deep breath as she looked down into those wide eyes, so desperate for the love of a mother so long denied to her. But Michelangelo was right. The love of a mother for a daughter was not limited to one. And she could love one daughter with all her heart... and still open that heart to another.

"No," she said, and bent to gently lick April's brow, bringing a soft, sheepish smile to the girl's face. But April's arms remained tight around her just the same. "I do not mind at all, my child."


	9. Contemplation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post "Wormquake" drabble.

 

The leaves on the tree rustled softly in the drafts that coursed through the dojo, providing the only counterpoint to Shard's chaotic thoughts. The children were still busy with their celebration, but Shard had quietly slipped away to kneel in contemplation before the photograph of her family taken so long ago.

_Oh, my poor Miwa…_

Miwa's entire world was based on lies, and one after another, they were being systematically stripped away from her. First, she had believed that her mother was dead, killed by Hamato Yoshi. Then, she had been told that her mother was indeed alive, but had been willing to let Miwa perish in flames to hide the shame of an illicit affair with her father's rival, Yoshi. And now….

Now, the truth was in the open at last. Though after the life she had known, could Miwa even recognize truth?

Or love?

Even after everything, she could not blame the girl. Shard could only imagine how she must be feeling; if Shard's thoughts were a storm, Miwa's must be a typhoon, and it would take a strong mind indeed to keep from being blown away by that kind of raw fury.

Closing her eyes, Shard let herself sink into the dream-state of deep meditation, breathing deeply as her hands shaped the familiar forms. For now, she ignored the red thread that danced just on the edges of her awareness — though, perhaps, she would have need to follow it again soon. Instead, she sough the deeper, shadowed places only just making themselves known on the fringes of her deepest state of meditation.

She could do little about those dark, roiling clouds. Only the mind they tormented could banish those and let the light shine through at last. But as she breathed deeply, she drew the stars around her into a bright, shining path, leading from the edge of those shadowed places back to the core of Shard's own mind.

_I am here, my child. Let the truth guide you. Follow it out of this darkness, and when you have need of me, I promise you, I will be there._

As Shard began to rise out of her deep trance, she cast one last thought out into the void, where it floated like a beacon among the stars. Waiting.

_Mother loves you, Miwa. Always._


	10. A Cat May Look at a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a mother and son share a moment. And contraband. And fishsicles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Shard!verse follow up to "of Rats and Men." In Shard's universe, her presence keeps the rats away from the general vicinity of the house (they don't call it a lair), so Falco ended up experimenting on stray cats instead.
> 
> I figured Mikey deserved a second shot, since Happy Baby was a little short. Raph's and Leo's stories are still coming, but they're both much longer, too.

The smoke from the incense curled through the air, wreathing the dojo in a sweet haze, but it brought her no measure of calm this night. Though she tried her utmost to still her mind, she could still feel him within it.

 _I'm inside your very soul_ … _revel in the madness, my sister…_

_I've got what I came for…_

A terrible shudder wracked Shard's body as her eyes flew open, fleeing from the darkness within her mind to reassure herself that she was indeed alone. A shaking breath left her in a rush, and she looked down, scowling at her trembling hands. The violation of her mind had been bad enough… but what she had almost done to her children because of it…

A soft sound caught her attention, and she raised her gaze to the doorway. "Michelangelo?" she called softly.

Her youngest peeped around the corner, his blue eyes wide. "Uh, hey  _Sensei._ " The rest of him followed, and he crossed the room to kneel before her, though there was a newfound hesitation to him as he entered her presence. Giving her a small, hopeful smile, he held out his hands. "I brought you some tea. And a fishsicle."

The corner of her mouth twitched despite his obvious sincerity, and she accepted the fish from him first, as it was the most in danger of melting. "That is very thoughtful, my son."

He smiled quickly before looking back down at the cup of tea he held for her. "Well, you know. I thought you might be hungry and all. After… y'know."

She bowed her head. "Yes. I know."

As she nibbled at the frozen treat, her teeth tearing dainty strips from its flesh, she watched her uncharacteristically quiet son. Unbidden, memory flashed before her. Michelangelo, cowering at her feet, his eyes filled with terror.

_No….You tell me NO?_

She had not marked him - though not for lack of trying. Were it not for the quick thinking of her remaining sons who had rushed to restrain her, her claws might have found him. And though she had not physically harmed him, there were scars on him yet that needed healing.

Finishing with the fishsicle, she set the stick aside and accepted the cup from him, smiling as she saw which one it was – the sole remaining cup from the set she and Yoshi had owned in Japan, rescued from the fire and brought with her to America. The cup had been broken long ago, which had devastated her at the time. Yet through the thoughtfulness and ingenuity of all four of her sons, they had managed to repair it, the cracks gleaming with gold lacquer.

 _Kinstukuroi._  It was beautiful in its brokenness.

It had not been mere chance that Michelangelo had chosen this cup.

Yet he flinched as her fingers brushed against his. Shard paused, a pang aching deep in her chest, before she raised the tea.

The sweet steam wreathed her head, mingling with the incense, and she breathed deeply of it. Michelangelo had chosen one of her favourite green blends, yet there was something else to it. Something… lovely. Intoxicating even. She breathed deeply again, trying to place the addition.

Her eyes flew open suddenly. "Michelangelo!"

His blue eyes wide, he held up his hands. "I know, I know, but it's only a little tiny bit,  _Sensei,_  I promise! Not enough to do… that thing we won't mention in this house ever again. Just enough to make you relax a little. I thought…" He looked down at his hands, pressing his fingertips together. "I thought if you could feel good again, you—" He broke off, knotting his fingers together.

Shard raised a brow. "Go on."

He peered up at her. "…you might not be mad at me."

She let out a long breath, her hands curling around the cup. "Michelangelo," she said softly. "That was not  _me_."

"Oh, I know! I know! I just—"

Shard shook her head, forestalling his fumbling attempts to articulate himself. "It is all right, my son. I understand." She looked down at the cup again, breathing the irresistible scent. "Where did you even  _get_  this?"

"Oh, April brought a toy mouse for the cat!" he said, brightening. At her glance, he shrugged. "She didn't know about the rule. Donnie figured out what was in it a second before we did, though, so he got to her first and stopped her from being too squished when we all jumped on her to get it away."

Another smile tugged at her mouth at the vivid mental image. "Poor April." Slowly, she swirled the tea in its cup. "And you thought to keep it because…?"

Michelangelo glanced at her sheepishly. "I thought it might come in handy for emergencies." His expression turned eager. "I promise, Master Shard, it really is just a tiny pinch."

Catnip was a banned substance in her house for a very good reason. And yet, in such a small amount, it was likely harmless. Her gaze shifted between the cup and her son's hopeful face, and she heaved a small, resigned sigh. "I suppose this would count as an emergency," she admitted. Beneath his delighted watch, she raised the cup and lapped at the tea.

It was not long before a pleasant, lethargic warmth worked its way thought her tense muscles, and she found herself beginning to relax despite herself. In that way he sometimes had of showing a remarkable emotional intelligence, Michelangelo had been right.

"This is quite wonderful, sweetheart," she said.

He beamed at her. "Oh, good! Does that mean we can keep the mouse around?"

"I did not say that."

At that, he offered her his first genuine smile of the night as he shrugged. "Well, it was worth a shot." He tilted his head. "But I did good?"

"You did. And not for the first time tonight." She twitched an ear as a pleasant tingling spread beneath her fur. "How did you know that the Cat King could not control a cat made of ice cream?"

He grinned at her. "I just had a hunch. I'm a genius like that."

"Mmm-hmm." She lapped a little more at the tea. "And exactly how long did you have the cat before you mutated her?"

"Uhh…" he considered that. "About thirty seconds?"

" _Ai yah_." Finishing the tea, she set the cup aside. "Still, she did indeed help save the day. We must be glad of that."

Michelangelo nodded emphatically. "And I really do think she's happier as ice cream! I mean, I love her and all, but she was kinda mangy-lookin' before the whole melting thing, and she's in a good mood all the time now!"

"I can see that much," Shard agreed. "And who could blame her, with one such as you to love her? It would take a hard heart indeed to be unhappy in your presence." But as she watched, his smile faltered, and it did not take April's sensitivity to read his thoughts in that moment.

 _You were_.

In all the years she had been as she was, through all the trials she had endured in growing accustomed to her new form, she could take solace in the fact that her children had never feared her. Respected and been intimated by, yes. But never feared. And yet, there was fear in Michelangelo's eyes when he looked at her now.

"Do you know what the worst part of it was?" she asked.

He looked up at her, and shook his head solemnly.

Her gaze was soft as she regarded him. "Knowing that he might make me hurt you. I could never have forgiven myself had he gotten his way."

Distress crept across Michelangelo's face, and he reached out a hand to lay it lightly against her wrist. "But it wasn't your fault that the Cat King's a grade-A jerk!"

"No," she agreed, amusement at his colourful vernacular warming her voice. "And he learned better. He claimed that I belonged to him, and you know how I feel about men who believe that."

A soft grin stole a cross his features. He and his brothers knew well her feelings on being claimed by anyone. "You kicked his butt good, huh?"

"Indeed," she said, her tail curling around her knees.

He watched it for a moment, reaching out a hand to brush against it absently. "So, you're in control now, right?"

Her ear twitched thoughtfully as she recalled her words to the creature who would have taken her mind and her family from her. "Control is an illusion, my son," she said at last, raising a finger before his mood could fall. "But love? That is a very real thing."

Michelangelo stared at her until comprehension stole across his features, and she had just enough time to open her arms before he threw himself at her. Her arms closed around him, wrapping him in the folds of her houmongi as he buried his head against her.

"I'm glad you're okay now,  _Sensei_ ,"he murmured, and his breath carried with it the sweetness of strawberries.

" _Ai yah,_ " she said, resting her cheek against his head. "Michelangelo, sweetheart. Do stop licking the cat."

"But she's so delicious!" he protested, turning his face up to her. "Besides, she licked me first! And so do you, when you're being mushy."

Shard considered that with a raised brow. "I suppose you do have a point," she said, and without further warning, she bent her head and began covering his face with feline kisses.

He let out a small shriek, wriggling beneath her onslaught. "Muuuum! Quit it! Gross, you've got fish breath!" But his struggles fell well shy of the force he would have needed to use were he truly intent on escaping her, and his exclamations were punctuated by breathless laughter.

At last, her laughter spent, she showed him mercy, and he buried his head in her fur once again as her purr began to rumble beneath him. Shard held him close, inwardly shaking a little at the thought of what Falco had nearly cost her. Her children were the most precious thing she had in this world, and there would have been nothing on this earth that would have stood in her way had his machinations taken them from her.

"Who's my happy baby?" she murmured against his head.

With a soft, contented sigh, he answered, "I am."

A Cat May Look at a King by [masart](http://masart.tumblr.com/post/91577218576/a-cat-may-look-at-a-king-by-m3ru-i-finally-got-my)


	11. Till We Meet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's very difficult to have Shard interact in roleplay with anyone outside of her own canon, but in a really, truly fun thread to write, gesshiruisensei/rattosensei and I figured out a workaround. This is reposted with permission - all the Shard sections were written by me, and the others were written by rattosensei on tumblr. It started in response to a prompt "My muse is having nightmares and yours hears mine screaming in their sleep" or something along those lines, and took on a life of its own from there.

Of course she would dream of them. On  _this_  night of all nights, it should not have surprised her to find herself in a sea of sakura, petals falling like snow around her as she moved through the featureless landscape of dreams. How long had it been now, since that night when they had vowed to join their lives forever? But how they have known? They had been so young; how could they have known how quickly their lives would change forever?

She supposed it would have been too much to hope that this dream would be a pleasant one. Barely had she had time to register her surroundings before the eerie silence of the dreamscape was shattered by he sound of screaming.

But... she knew that voice.

With a gasp, she turned, and a red thread stretched before her, leading away into darkness. Toward the source of the cries.

She wasted no time in pursuing it, racing through the fall of petals as her breath came in ragged sobs. She felt something as she passed from the light of the blossom-filled world into darkness, a strange, wrenching sensation, but she paid it no mind. All of her attention was on the figure cloaked in a vicious net of shadows. The shape was not the one she remembered, but it was one she knew despite herself. And that voice... she would know it had it been a thousand years since last she heard it.

"Yoshi!"

And she fell upon the shadows, rending with her claws.

* * *

He could not see, he could not hear; no shape, no color, no sound existed beyond walls of thrashing red, of white, of furious orange. They were barbed whips at his flesh, great groping claws imbued with a terrible poison that turned his very soul inside-out and bared it to a never-ending hell storm. Even as his breath turned to knives in his chest, he had not even realized that he was screaming; screaming with a voice that did not end for water, for his sons, for the end, for —!

"Yoshi!"

_Shen—?_

Suddenly, his world was plunged into a freezing sea of black; the wall had turned to shadows and, crackling like the flames of his prison, it battered him, flooding his ears, his eyes, his very skin — but now he could think, now he could fight —!

"Away!" he cried, and quickly he pressed his palms to his flattened ears. "Away, demon!"

But it was not with the roar of his voice, but at a great tear - one with the sound of wind being torn asunder - that the darkness left him. A burst of warming light fell upon him then, and leading it, pulling it along, were the hands of someone — someone —  _someone he knew._

It was over.

The air had stilled, and upon it settled the smell of flowers; blossoms upon a summer wind. Trembling, his knees buckled beneath him, his palms hitting a floor that did not exist, yet felt of fresh grass and infant flowers.

And all around him, there was a beautiful presence.

He need not look to know his savior.

"You…" he said, and he was surprised that his voice was not harsh from smoke, but soft and clear.

"You are my love. Forever."

* * *

Her claws sank into the shadows, and there was a burning scent in the air now, and she knew precisely what dreams plagued him, for she had battled them often enough herself. But they were no match for her, and the shadows ensnaring him turned to smoke beneath her claws and fell away.

She could not let him stay here, with the embers of the dream still around them, and so even as his knees buckled, she was moving them back to her own familiar dreamscape. And so it was that his hands met not the charred floorboards of a house long vanished, but the soft carpet of her dream orchard.

Oh, how she longed to catch him as he fell, but fear held her back. It was odd to find him smaller than she was now, and it seemed stranger still that it was the difference in height that bothered her more than the change to his face. The foolish fear of rats she had held in her youth, the one that had doomed her to the form she wore today, stirred itself for a moment before she pushed it aside. His was a kind face, and distinguished, for all the strangeness of it.

But even if this was but a dream, how on Earth could she expect him to feel the same, given that her kind were mortal enemies to his? She knelt before him, her trembling hands curling into fists against her knees both to hide her claws and to stop herself from reaching for him.

"Forever… is a long time, beloved, and we are both much altered." She bowed her head, ashamed at the fear she felt. "Will you still think so when you see how time has changed me?"

And then there was only the soft whisper of the petals falling around them as she awaited his answer.

* * *

The sound of her voice alone was a gentle caress upon his heart, as if to brush away any flame that might remain, to soothe the eternal scars upon it. It may have been hours before he opened his eyes, days before he recognized the glow of the world of dreams…

Before he remembered that such a world did not know of seconds nor days. Before he remembered that such a world was fleeting. He wasted not a moment more; with arms that she had made strong again he pushed himself up, and with eyes that she had made new he looked upon her at last.

He found, with a shuddering thrum in his chest, that he did not know the down-turned face before him. First to his thoughts were her eyes, dark yellow like the ones he'd seen in his most primal of nightmares, and in moments his wonder was struggling with his instinctive alarm; so striking they were, framed by a face that, although bearing the shape of a creature that shook the beast in him to its core, was one of gentility - grace, even - accented by curving streaks of white.

It was strange. It was frightening.

_It was her._

"I have vowed to you that my love would withstand time," he said to her, and immediately he pulled himself forward. He must be near her, he must meet her eyes now, feline or non, lest the waking hours steal her from him too soon. "Time and its change. Change and its cruelties."

It was with the slightest hesitance - for she might still fade into the flowers, she might flee upon the wind with the petals - that he brought a hand to her chin with the touch of a butterfly's wing. Gently, he tried to tilt her head up, to have her look at him, at least for a moment…

"These eyes are not the ones that had looked upon you then." So lucid this illusion had become; he could feel knots forming in his throat, and the guise of calm over his voice was wavering. "But can you truly not see your Yoshi within them, Tang Shen? Can you not see that I could never have lied?"

* * *

She had never been a blushing young maiden — in fact, it had been her delight to make  _him_  blush in their youth. And yet his touch upon her now sent a flutter of butterflies loose within her. She knew this to be a dream, and yet the gentle touch was so familiar. So  _beloved._

She raised her gaze to meet his, green eyes locking with brown, and in that moment, she saw her face reflected in his eyes. It had taken her years to stop herself from recoiling from that face, and even longer before she could stand to have mirrors in her home, and yet in his eyes, that cat's face no longer filled her with dread. For though they were indeed changed, those eyes were still  _his_ , and she knew with every inch of her heart that his eyes could never see her as a monster.

As she could never see him so.

Her vision blurred as tears pricked at her eyes, but she could not lose the knowing of him now. She raised a hand, trembling, and laid it upon his cheek, the touch as fragile and ethereal as the petals that fell around them. And for once, it seemed, there was a kindness in the changes that had been done to them, for her new hand would never have fit against the face of the man she had known, yet in this change, it fit perfectly. Gently, very careful of her claws, she brushed her thumb against the softness of his fur, and her vision blurred again, for it felt so  _real._ But she refused to let the tears fall. She could not weep in the face of this joy, even if it was but a dream.

Her tail curled around her knees, and she hardly dared to breathe lest it shatter this moment that hung between them. She had lost the ability to kiss long ago, and yet this moment was sweeter than a thousand kisses, for it was  _him_ , and for this moment at least, the empty place in her heart ceased to ache.

"My handsome husband," she whispered, in a voice that trembled only a little. There were so many things that needed to be said.  _I love you. I have missed you. Some days I cannot fathom how I could possibly do this alone. There has never been a day that has passed when I have not longed for you._ But all of them hung, trapped in her throat, for none of them could express the enormity of what she felt. And so in the end it, she let her eyes convey all those things she could not say, and it was the old, familiar mischief that broke her silence. The mischief that had broken down the barriers between them so long ago, and built their lives together on a foundation of love and laughter. Her ear twitched, and a smile played at her mouth as she said, "I rather like the beard. It's a nice touch."

* * *

It was such a simple thing for her to say; light like the touch of her fingers at his dark pelt and as unprofound as it could be. It was casual, playful, as if the two of them had already seen one-another just yesterday, as if this was simply another day of enjoying the spring sun, as if they would be heading back to the house in a minute to banter over honeyed tea…

He might have cried. He should have cried. But if there were tears upon his cheeks, he did not notice them, for he had begun to laugh. He laughed and laughed, tamely but as certainly as his shoulders shook and a smile graced his face, all the way up to crinkle the corners of his eyes. He laughed away all of his knowing, he laughed as he forgot why he was, and he laughed as he softly pressed his forehead to her's, nearly entangling their whiskers.

"I am glad," he said at last, and the jolliness in his voice was insuppressible. "I am glad you do! I will keep it, then, and you may do what you wish with it as well — we could try braiding it, even!"

And Splinter surrendered to the illusion; let it settle upon his mind like a thick silken blanket.

For if he never woke up, he could still be happy; if he never woke up, he could be here - here, where Tang Shen could speak, smile, be loved and be touched - forever.

* * *

It was a gift, that mischief, that had saved them so many times. And so it did again, as his laughter enveloped her, and her voice joined with his from the sheer, giddy  _joy_  it brought her. For as he laughed, the features may have been strange, but the way the laughter tugged at his eyes, and the way his hand moved as if to hide it, and the laugh itself — it was all  _him._ He pressed his brow to hers, and her hands drifted up to cup his face, her thumbs gently brushing the dampness from the fur beneath his eyes, banishing any sign of sorrow in the face of this perfect happiness.

_My love. My Yoshi._

She answered his silliness with another laugh of her own. "Indeed, I have some lovely ribbons that would look most fetching."

She was teasing, but in her mind's eye, she could see Michelangelo adorning it thusly—

A soft breeze stirred the petals around them as Shard's mind was drawn back to the children. Of course, this moment could not last forever, but oh, she would make the most of it while it did. Taking his hands in hers, she rose to her feet in a fluid, feline movement. "Come," she said, "there is something I must show you."

Though her voice still rang with love and laughter, there was a small note of challenge in it now, and that, too, was familiar. For another thing they had learned early in their life together was that two masters of ninjutsu in the same house are rarely bored, and the games of hide and seek they had played in the parks together had bordered on legendary. She glanced over her shoulder at him, a long-absent gleam rekindling deep within her green eyes.  _Remember, love?_

And then she released him, weaving through the falling petals to the place she knew would be ahead, with the surety that only dreams could bring. But even as she ran, she kept every sense, every fibre of her being trained upon him. For this was  _her_  dream, and she did not intend to lose him again.

* * *

She was pulling him to his feet, and it was as if he was rising upon the rails of a perfect afterlife; her hands, though larger than those he knew in his precious memories and tipped by long claws, remained soft as ever. In her gentle eyes there was the brightest gleam - of joy, of play - and it shot through his body from the tip of his long snout to the very ends of his toes in a swoop of a sensation he had forgotten he could feel; his ears may have even visibly twitched at it.

"There is something I must show you."

Then, she flew. She flew off into the brightness of the land, the petals dancing upon the wind with her; her gait was quick, flowing as a feline's would be and expert like that of a  _kunoichi_. And as he watched her go, a distant memory blossomed within his mind like the fragile lotus; one of dashing through a world of light, with all care left long behind the wake of two in love running free…

_I remember._

He knew where she was going.

After her he ran, over the fresh grass and quick as a river's rapids, through the flora falling like winter's first snow. With a body that no longer knew of worldly limit, he could follow her forever — forever, as he should — and even as the ripe greens and gentle hues of perfect daylight came shimmering into being all around, he saw only her. Only Tang Shen, for she had always made his world so wonderful in this way. And although she kept ahead of him - she had always been so very quick - it was as if she had never moved; she was all around him, her breath having given life to the spring wind and her footsteps leaving swaying flowers behind them.

Not once did his gaze leave her.

_Let us play again._

* * *

It had been so long, so very long, since she had had someone with whom she could just  _let go_ , and trust that he could keep up. That he could match her, skill for skill, knowing that she had no need to hold back, for he was, as ever, her match in every way.

Laughing, she darted through the falling petals, and in response to her unvoiced wishes they, thickened like the smoke in which her children chose to hide. Under their cover, she drew close enough to strike, and he matched her blow for blow before she vanished into the formless dreamspace once more, petals drifting away like smoke on the wind.

Oh, how  _desperately_  she had missed this.

The chase should have tired her, but each step she took, each footprint in the blossoms, only buoyed her further, filling her with an exuberance and a giddy elation she had not known for nearly seventeen years. They were soundless as they ran, save for the laughter neither one of them had ever truly been able to hide during these games. It was the laughter that always gave them away in the end. Brilliant, resonant notes of laughter that fell amongst the petals to take on familiar forms, shapes, blurred outlines that echoed the memories of their past.

But it was only when one such shape crystallized into perfect clarity that she halted the chase, for before her lay a deep pool, its waters reflecting a canopy of sakura trees like the face of a great silver mirror. She knew this pool well, though it served a different purpose here. Here, deep within the dream, it was a well of memory, awaiting only her permission to reflect the visions it held.

And so on the shores of this pool, so like the one they had sat by in their youth to plan the dreams of their future, she finally allowed him to catch her.

* * *

To a gentle stop she had come and, as the glint of the crystal surface of water caught his gaze - rippling in the light peering through the bright canopy above - so to did he. Upon the softness of the earth his steps were slowed, and to her side he went quietly. Gently, his hand found her wrist, and he gingerly wrapped his fingers about it; with her he watched the flowers flutter down to soundlessly kiss the pool's surface.

It was this, not running, that had taken his breath away.

"Look," he said quietly, and the ring of frolic had not left his voice. "Look how time has left it untouched. It is not so cruel, after all." But he already knew memory to be powerful; surely not seventeen years nor a thousand could wear away such brightness.

"I see us there." Splinter pointed across the glistening pond to the far bank, at the distant image shimmering faintly before his mind's eye. "I see us laughing; our world remembers us."

* * *

The gentle touch of his hand set the butterflies within her soaring anew, and she twisted her own hand within his grasp so that she could twine her fingers with his. Another gentle mercy of their change there; there were fewer fingers on both of their hands, but as a result, they still fit together as they once had. As did the hands of the happy figures who dwelled on the farther shore. That sweet memory brought a smile to her face, and she nodded, still gazing across the water.

"It does. And that is not all it remembers." Without relinquishing her hold upon him, she bent to scoop up a handful of petals. She held them momentarily in her open palm, breathing softly upon them, before casting them across the shining waters.

Ripples blossomed across the surface of the pool where they touched, and as the ripples cleared, memories rose to the surface in their place. Leonardo, that first dark night in the tunnels when he had called her name and restored her to herself. Her claws flashing as she retrieved Donatello from the jaws of a monstrous alligator. Michelangelo, laughing as he struggled to dance in a yukata too large for him as he acted out a scene from an operetta on one of her records. Raphael, his face solemn as he watched over an ailing brother.

And other memories. Laughing beneath the tree on New Year's. The surprise birthday celebration they had given April. Their first taste of onigiri. Flying though their ninjutsu drills with a grace and precision that did her proud. A dozen memories covering the last sixteen years floated upon the surface of the pool.

"My children," she said softly. "My joy. The light in the darkness that fell when I lost you." Her voice trembled a little at that. "This is what I needed to show you. I gave them the Hamato name…in your memory."

And her beloved Yoshi, who knew precisely how hard she had fought to keep the name of the Tang family into which she had been born, how she had refused to take Yoshi's name despite tradition and the wishes of her father… he would know exactly what that meant.

* * *

Suddenly, the waters were shifting; shapes moved, the color changed, even the contour of the tiny waves were warping over and down, out and in, forward and away as if caught in a strange spell. Splinter furrowed his brow; what was happening? What was it?

Suddenly, realization came upon him like the quickest dawn, and his own breath froze in his chest.

_My family._

All of them, down to the very last detail; He saw Leonardo, blue-eyed, attentive and bold as ever. He saw Raphael, loyal like a rugged knight with passion like the flame. He saw Donatello, keen, enthusiastic and so very curious. He saw Michelangelo and his never-ending smile. He saw April, warm, bright and precious as any daughter would have been. And they were all together; together under the careful guiding hand of Tang Shen. They were all happy, they were all laughing and playing and crying and loving and living in that bittersweet world with all it gave them.

It was his family. It was  _their_  family; it was a family that his beloved was part of. The contentment, the sorrow, the joy he had wanted to share with her for so long was flashing before his very eyes, one after the other. Vivid, bright and so very  _real_  was this world she was sharing, this wonderful world he could only see — that could only exist — through the window of a fleeting dream. What was he to do? What would he even  _say_ , when he could have asked her so much, told her so much?

And she had given them the name;  _his_  name, the name he alone carried into their unison, the name she had so adamantly refused time and time again, the name that even love could not place above the one that she had held so very dear to her very last days.

"They are beautiful," he said. Why was his voice so broken, now? Was it a repression of laughter? Was it the start of more tears? Was it both, a delirious blend of the madness of longing? "Beautiful, like their mother. I know Leonardo must mind you well. And — and Raphael, I know he would be — Michelangelo — he had asked me about you just hours ago. And April — April has been so long without a mother. She must be…"

Splinter was at a loss — an utter loss — for words, unhelped by the voice he could barely find; in the torrent of his emotion, he did not notice that his grip around Shen's hand had tightened considerably.

_Our family._

_**Our**  family._

* * *

She turned to him then, moved by the ragged edges in his voice, and gazed down at him as emotions all-too-familiar played across his face. And strange to her as it was, it was nonetheless a dear face: noble, and distinguished, and incredibly expressive to one who knew how to read him.

 _Beautiful_ , he said, and it was odd to hear it. She shared that assessment of her children, wholly and unequivocally, but it had never occurred to her to apply it to the creature she had become. And yet, in his eyes… in his voice… she could believe it.

And for the first time since finding him lost in shadows, she wondered if this was, in fact, the dream it appeared to be. She had dreamed of him so often over the years, but never like this. Never so raw, or so real. The past few months… it had opened her eyes to the possibility that there were other realities than the one she knew. Other roads taken, branches on the tree of fate, and that hers was the only one that had led to the creature known as Shard — a single blossom on a verdant tree.

And she knew, too, that the love they shared had been true. Perhaps, as they both sought to hone their awareness of the universe that their young adopted student possessed so naturally… Perhaps the red thread that had bound them together in their youth was not finished with them. Perhaps it had drawn them together once again, beyond the span of mortal existence, so that a wife could once more soothe the troubled dreams of her beloved husband… and so that both could receive a much-needed moment of peace. Of hope.

She had named her children for him. He had named his for the artists she admired. In each world that lacked the other, their ghosts lingered still, whispering. And here, in this realm of dreams, they could meet once more.

And so, as his hand tightened on hers, she drew him close and folded her arms around him as a soft purr began deep within her. It was so very different in these forms, and yet this, too, was as familiar as the two figures that still dreamed on the pool's farther shore, and she sighed as she rested her cheek against his head.

"They are happy," she said softly. The plume of her tail, ever with a mind of its own, brushed lightly against his. "As we were. As we may yet be again. They were raised with the love we kindled in one another. What sapling could fail to flourish in a light so radiant as that?"

* * *

It was as if he had plunged into a pure eastern sea - into water, wonderful water, not cursed fire - and yet again it was only only her touch that could pull him free of it.

 _She is tall._ In his daze he had realized this at last, the very first of his coherence since the spell of the pool that now seemed hours behind him. Yes, so very _tall_  she had become; as she held him, her cheek, as it was, pressed down upon his head rather than up into his jaw as it once did. Alas, in so many ways, this gesture — this body of the woman he had held so many times over so many years — was new like the dark moon, from the tingle of fur, to the plush of the scruff, to the brush of a long tail…

Nature, their chaotic mistress, had played teacher to their fate-twisted forms, and long had she taught each to bristle and hiss, to bite and flee, to fear and to hate at the mere scent of the other. And yet here he stood, still and serene. Here he stood, no more than a man cased in the body of the beast. Here, he had simply left his fear — the dogma of the rat — upon a swift turn of his heel and an upturn of his head.

For truly, he had never really known it. Truly, it had never been his own.

Tang Shen had chased it away.

And so it was with nary a flinch that he pressed the curve of his long nose into her face, without a moment of hesitance did his scaly tail curve naturally about her's, and contently he listened to the gentle rumbling in the softness of her neck. Into the waters he looked to see their faces — the faces he knew had been cursed with their own tongues — and blessed them. Blessed them, for at last they were good and whole.

Her words touched his ears, and through his spirit they spread as a triumphant song;  _'hope, o hope, o hope at last.'_

"Sapling?" Splinter gave a soft sound — it was like a laugh, but softened by splendor.

"My love, look around you; it is already an orchard."

* * *

Shard's hand drifted to stroke the back of his head, her fingers sinking into his soft fur, and she wondered that it was possible to feel so much joy and still survive it. He had been gone, lost to her forever, and yet here she was again in her beloved husband's arms. And if it was not quite the same as it was, it only meant that they would have the wonders of discovery all over again. Even as that thought crossed her mind, his tail twined around hers, and a little thrill chased up her spine. Different, it seemed, could be quite delightful in its own way.

He turned to look at the pool again and she followed his gaze, catching their reflection as it drifted between the memories. There was a strange rightness to it. Where she was merely at peace with her changed form in her waking life, here, with him, there was balance. Like yin and yang, fire and water, cat and mouse, each was once again the complement of the other, and it made her feel strangely whole.-

Finally, he spoke, and every time he did, the sound of his voice rang through her like a song. She glanced up at his words, and he spoke truly; out of the formless white void of falling petals, four trees now stood around the pool, with a fifth stretching forth nearby, her russet flowers standing in bright contrast to the others.

"How fast they grow," she murmured. "Yet every day, they manage to find new ways to surprise me. Their upbringing was not always easy, but there was such laughter in it." Moving her hand to cup his face, she gazed deep into his eyes. "And you, my Yoshi? Are you well?" For though he appeared so to her eyes, she could not forget the shadows through which she had torn in order to find him and bring him here.

* * *

It was the plush of her hand at his face that fed his smile, although it became quite weary at her question. While he'd no desire to conceal this from her - for he could never lie to her in any way, not now, not ever - he wished, at least, that she had not needed to see him at his worst. He wished she could have come upon a more joyous night — seen him in his flower field, in his dojo or among his own children — instead.

"I…" Splinter hesitated. He could tell her many things:  _the fire chases me everywhere._ _Our daughter is lost, and I do not know what to do._ _ _I am tired of the nightmares._ We are at war, and I am afraid. I wish we could be left alone. I wish that you were with me._

He shut his eyes. Such a storm was not fit for his Shen to see.

What truth was gentlest?

_The whole one._

"I am healing, " he said at last, and as he did, he found himself gazing up into the canopy, into the gentle coral of the petals above. "And things are changing. It becomes…most difficult at night. But only when I am alone. I thought such to be so tonight — and yet I have found you."

_I have found you._

Suddenly, he looked to her again, but a new light had come to his eyes; a dawn of something new. Something wonderful. He had known this dream to be different the moment he had seen her in this strange form, the moment he had witnessed the world within the water. But only now did he begin to understand why.

"I have found you…for the first time in many years," he said quietly; the unwavering watch of her face he had kept had simmered into a transfixion, lost in a fog of wonder. "I have dreamt of you many times, my love, but never like this. Never had you been more than an illusion; never have I reached beyond the veil of death. How is it that you have found me? How is it that we meet in this way?"

He placed his own hands upon her face now - one palm for each cheek - and intently he searched it for the answer.

"How is it that you have lived?"

* * *

She listened quietly as he attempted to find the words, and she recognized the sorrow within him as a twin to her own. Her hand moved, gently stroking the fur beneath it in silent comfort as she lent him her strength. Her support. Her love.

And so it was that she felt the change within him, and her eyes widened as his gaze locked with hers, something stirring deep within those gentle brown eyes that filled her with hope and terror in equal measure. She was frozen beneath the intensity of it, and the words that washed over her woke small tremors deep in her soul as his words lent weight to the thought she had dismissed as folly, too sweet and impossible to be true.

 _He is real. He is_ real _._

His hands came up to cradle her face, and if she had been frozen before, now she burned, the touch that ran through her so familiar, so  _real_ , that she could not doubt the truth that stood before her now. And as he held her, he asked the question that tormented her nightly, his words shattering the defenses she had built over the years, and she felt the heat of her tears as they slipped free to dampen the fur of her cheeks.

"I was so angry that night," she whispered. "So furious that I had decided to leave. To remove myself until the two of you realized that perhaps I might want a say in deciding my own fate. So when the fire broke out…" her breath caught, guilt twisting within her and screaming at her to run from her shame, but she was helpless beneath the gentle touch of his hands, even as the empty place within her yearned for that familiar gentleness. "…I was not where you thought me to be. You ran back into the house to find me, and because of that, I lost you. By the time I found you… you were already gone. So I fled to New York, to try to begin again. And the rest, I think, you know."

She drew a shuddering breath, but as she had given him strength only moments before, so now did she draw upon his, finding comfort in the strength of his hands against her fur and the solid grip of the tail still twined around hers, and even in that moment, she could not help a twinge of amusement that the stubborn tail with a mind of its own had finally met its match. Its equal.

But then, that had always been the way between them.

"Not long ago, it was brought to my attention by forces I still do not quite understand that I was unique. That there was only one branch out of all possible pathways on the great tree of life in which Tang Shen survived that night. Since then, I have spent a great deal of time in meditation, seeking to understand the many possibilities that make up the fabric of the universe."

Shard breathed deeply once more, but there was no longer a tremor in it, as she raised a hand to rest against his wrist. "And so it was that in dreaming of this place, I heard your cries, and a red thread led me the place where your dreams tormented you." And as she spoke, a soft growl crept into her voice. "And I was  _not_ about to let the darkness take you from me again."

* * *

He could hear it, feel it, see it all: the cries of their child, the roar of Saki's fury, the house, brimming with red and smoke. But now the walls were falling, not around him, but  _before_  him, bright against the black of a moonless night. Yes, he would assume the worst, he would not hesitate to plunge into hell itself to find them, to scream as loudly as he could for them, to fall so quickly into ignorance and reckless abandon…

To no avail. To see it all destroyed anyway. To leave Tang Shen behind.

_'It was still because of you.'_

She had been hurt again, and it was still because of Yoshi; Yoshi the ignorant, the prideful, the foolish. Yoshi, who had allowed the corruption of the man who had been his friend. Yoshi, who had faltered before the beasts of pride and jealousy. Yoshi, who had failed to see the pain of Tang Shen, to release her from it.

She had come to him from another world; a better world, in which death had passed her by. A better world, in which she had become teacher and protector to the children he had always wanted her to meet.

And yet, in that same world, he had still failed to protect her.

"I am sorry." Splinter barely realized that the voice — quiet, hardly above a whisper — had come from him. Now — now, he had to let go of her, had to step away from her, had to keep his gaze down; in an instant he had shied back, letting his tail fall limp and lowering his ears to half-mast . How could he have ever thought to touch her, to even look her in the eye? How could he ever regard himself — who had failed to be there, failed to heed her when she needed him — an equal to she, who had raced across the multiverse to save him?

"I am sorry that I did not listen," he said. "I am sorry that I hurt you. I am sorry that I left you alone."

* * *

Even in this new form, she knew him. He was still the same man capable of deep thought and deeper emotion, and she knew the shifting expressions on his face to be the ones that heralded some inner turmoil, and so she merely waited, her hand still against his wrist, letting him face his demons and make sense of the storm within him.

Until he began to pull away.

Panic surged through her, the anchor that had been holding her steady casting her loose as his tail fell away from hers. His soft words struck her like shards of ice, freezing her within as he pulled back, his hands falling away and leaving cold in their wake as her tears soaked her fur.

And on the heels of that fear came the deep, seething feline rage that had become her companion since her form had been altered. Rage that even now, Saki could still come between them. Rage that he continued to hurt them and drive them apart. And rage that her beloved would dare, even for a moment, to blame himself.

Drawing herself to her full height, she folded her arms and channeled every ounce of her rage into something less destructive as her ears flattened against her head. "Yoshi," she said, in the tight, clipped tones of irritation that her sons had learned to heed well over the years as a herald to something much worse on the horizon if they chose to ignore it. "The fates, for whatever reason, have chosen to bring us together again after all these years. And if you chose to waste this moment on a bout of self-recrimination that would do Donatello proud, I am going to be sincerely vexed with you."

But she was not finished. That anger was still there, driving her to  _do something_ , and in response, the petals around them fell harder, thicker, swirling around them in a blizzard of sweet perfume until they obscured the sight of each from the other.

When they fell away, it was Yoshi and Shen who were left behind. Not untouched by the years, certainly, and she wondered absently if the lines on her face told the story of the trials she had endured since last they had seen each other. And if nothing else spoke to the truth of the moment, it was the sheer, overwhelming mental  _effort_  it took to keep the shape of these forms in her dream. For though it was her dream, and she ultimately controlled it, these humans who faced each other were a memory, and not the same parents who had raised four sons in both hardship and love. Keeping the dream in these forms took every ounce of control within her, as they fought to return to their present truths.

But if they deserved nothing else after what they both had endured, they deserved this memory. For as long as the strength of her will could hold it.

"There are things we never had the chance to say, beloved," she said softly. "Let us take this gift and say them now, while we can." And, her anger at last spent, that old familiar mischief returned, tugging at the corner of her mouth. "For one, the beard really is quite distinguished."

* * *

Nary a flinch came upon him, for such tone was not unfamiliar, not at all; the ferocity of Tang Shen, even when it merely boiled just beneath the surface, surpassed that of anyone he'd ever known. Easily her voice alone drew his eyes back up, and he let her's bore into them - a sensation most harsh upon his spirit, like the lash of blizzards upon bare skin - as he listened for his life to her fury. Her frustration.

She was not wrong.

What had he done? What was he doing? Was this what he had wanted when he'd plead to the world for her? No: he had not asked for tears. He had not asked for bitter reminiscence. He had wanted the orchard, the flowers, the waters, the warmth of spring. He had wanted the laughter, the games, the easy smiles by which they had been bound together.

And fate, at last, had given those gifts; every last one.

He would not be wasting them.

Splinter did not look away from her again. He did not weep, lower his head, or even apologize.

He smiled.

And he could not be confused when her will, with a force like a great wave upon a shore's rock, rent time, truth and change apart. He could not be surprised when he stood there as Yoshi - Yoshi, not Splinter, as his dreams made him when they were kindest - and looked into the aged face that no number of years could have turned into a stranger's.

There was laughter in her eyes. It was quite contagious.

"Distinguished enough to match the likes of you?" At last, jest had begun to lift the shame from his voice; a most welcome change. "It is still far too unkempt as it is for that, surely; bear in mind that my suggestion that you braid it still stands."

The gales had once more upset the blossoms; when one came to tangle with his fingers, he kept it, and with it he returned to her — for how, he wondered, could he have ever thought to part with her?

"Then," he went on, "it might be as well-off as your hair; which is longer than I remember! Very magisterial. Perhaps we could fetch a matching ribbon for it as well? Or — ah!" A new thought lifted the last of the shadows from his face; with careful fingers, he strung the blossom into her dark strands (which were wonderfully soft to the touch). "Flowers; we could weave it with flowers, perhaps?"

* * *

"Ah, " she breathed softly. "How strange to have it all in one place again." She closed her eyes briefly as he placed the flower in her hair, focusing with every fibre of her being with the gentleness of that touch as her soul longed toward it. Too long had she been without it, and it was all the sweeter for her remembering.

She opened her eyes once again, a hand straying to his head. Her fingers — strange to see them so small, and without claws! — traced lightly through the ebony strands, shining now with a tracery of silver that mapped out their years apart.

There was so much she wished to tell him, and her heart longed for this moment to last for at least as long as the eternity she had spent without him. But already she could feel her strength beginning to wane, Instead, she smiled, a teasing, mischievous look he would know well, as she twined the trailing length of his beard around her finger.

" _Ai yah_. Vexing man. Always so preoccupied with words and poetry that you forget what is important."

She tugged, very lightly, as the petals around them began to fall faster. "All this talk of ribbons and flowers and I am  _still_  waiting for you to kiss me."

* * *

He must have known this was coming. Surely somehow, sometime, somewhere in his mind, he had known. And since he had known, he had truly looked forward to it.

But now, he did not quite know what to do about it. The urge to tentatively touch his own lips - his  _human_  lips; much smaller, much shorter, without whiskers sprouting from the skin - was dashed only by the overwhelming desire to never, ever let go of her, to put absolutely nothing between his face and the fingers playing through his beard.

He could speak, breathe, and form her name through those lips well enough - simple, everyday things that even sixteen years in his alien body could never truly wipe from his mind - but…

His bashful smile - one, he recalled, that she had always been quite practiced in bringing to his face - was graced ever so slightly by apology as he gently touched his forehead to her's once more.

"I fear," he said softly, gently caressing her cheek, "that I may not remember how. Could you forgive me if I am clumsy?"

* * *

She understood his hesitation — shared it, in fact — but so too did she realize how close she was to losing her hold on the illusion. Yet it was so real… she felt her own lips curving in response as that familiar smile touched his face, and oh, how she had delighted in her youth in teasing him until she brought that particular smile forth. Her sweet Yoshi, so strong in so many ways, and yet so often confounded by her flirtatious teasing. Driving her to ever-increasing levels of outrageousness just so that she could try to make him flustered. To make him laugh.

She had missed it so much. Missed  _him_  so much. Over the years, as a form of survival, she had found ways of muting the pain of his loss, and yet in this moment, she was reminded of just how deeply she loved him. She loved him so much, she could barely breathe from the way it pressed against her heart. His hand, which she had seen wreak destruction and devastation to those foolish enough to challenge him, was so gentle against her cheek. Such an innocent touch, yet she felt it rush through her down to her core, wrapping around her heart. She had never made herself so vulnerable to anyone as she made herself to him, and while he held her heart, he had the power to break it if he so chose. And she knew that he never would. She trusted that touch with every fiber of her being, and her lonely soul surged forth to meet it.

Closing her eyes as his brow pressed against hers, she gave a quiet, breathless laugh. "Beloved, I could forgive you anything in this moment except your failure to do as I asked." Her hand left his beard, her fingers tracing the familiar lines of his face before they sank into his hair, and even that simple act brought forth a rush of memories that left her gasping for breath. "Here, my love. Let me remind you how it is done…." And she turned her face up to meet his.

It had been so long…. but they had not forgotten. It was a single kiss, but it held within it the memory of every kiss they had shared. From the first brief, shy brush of lips, to the deepening hunger of two lovers desperate to eliminate the spaces between them, to the tender, intimate, familiar caress of a man and a woman united in body and soul and in parenthood, they remembered them all.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she half-forgot to breathe, yet she was desperate for the familiar scent of him in her lungs, that familiar taste on her lips. He was shy at first, it was true, but it was not long before he remembered himself, and as his arms closed around her, it took everything in her not to cry out from the overwhelming joy of it as that well-remembered strength surrounded her. Yet she would do nothing to risk breaking that contact between them, and he would stop in an instant if he thought that he might be hurting her.

He was so strong. Her beloved husband. If she was the willow, fluid and ever-changing, he was the sakura, constant and strong against the changing of the seasons. He was her centre. Her rock in the storm. Was it any wonder she had nearly broken without him? If not for her children, she would still be lost in the tempest of grief that had claimed her when fate had taken her from him. Now, perhaps in penance for all it had done, fate had given her back this moment with him. And though it was only a single kiss, they relived an entire lifetime in it.

And when, at last, they broke apart, they were Shard and Splinter once more. The petals were falling faster still, the lake and its reflections lost once again to the white mists of the dreamscape, but he remained, solid and real beneath her hands, even as her hold on the dream began to crumble.

She traced the tip of a claw around the edge of his ear as her greedy tail swept around his feet, and she smiled down upon him. The moment had been fleeting — yet she did not have it in her to mourn it.

In that moment, she knew only joy.

"My Yoshi," she whispered. "My only love…."

* * *

A single brush of her lips, and everything had gone — his uncertainty, his fear, his hesitance — for his every sense, his every bone, his every nerve had exploded into a chaotic flurry of life and color. Tang Shen filled his eyes, his nose, the very veins that pressed his blood through his body, and now she was all that mattered, all that ever existed; his arms wound about her naturally, gently, and with everything he was he held her, caressed her, pressed as far as he could into her touch, her kiss.

He had not forgotten. He could never have forgotten. And now, her embrace had thrown open the shining gateway between them, and their brightest hopes, their most wondrous dreams, their warmest memories came crashing through them like the greatest flood. His mind was spinning in the currents, bursting in the joy of it.

Bliss. Belonging.

He could never move, not one inch, or he might drop cold to the ground. To let go of her would be a feat most unnatural, for surely they had been permanently bound at the heart, at the breath. Only dully could he fathom the fact that they had separated, that his lungs were not pulsing around nothing without her.

Splinter could not mind the fur anymore, even as it sprang, unwelcome, back over his skin. He could not detest the strange paws, the scaly tail or the ears that tingled pleasantly at her touch.

Tang Shen was there.

Everything was as it should have been.

_For a night._

"…can you come with me?"

A simple question. He had spoken it softly, calmly, and he hoped that his eyes, practically shining as they gazed up into her's, did not betray the desperation that had brought him to speak it.

A foolish question.

He already knew the answer.

"Can you come with me?"

* * *

Five words. So sweet. So simple. And yet they plunged past every defense she had like a finely honed blade, straight to her heart. Five sweet, impossible words, and the desperation which which she longed to echo them back to him in turn was as strong as the certainty of why it could not be. Trembling only a little, she cupped his face between her hands — dear, strange, wonderful face that it was — and gazed into his eyes. Much as the rest of him had changed, his eyes were still his own, and she had learned to read the truth in them long ago.

Sixteen years ago, she would have gone without question. She would have thought nothing of leaving her body behind, her sleeping self forever lost to the precious sweetness of the dream that had him in it. But her life was no longer truly her own, and there were more threads connecting her to that life now than the one that bound her to him, however strong it might be.

So instead, she smiled, laughing gently as she pressed her brow to his. "Oh, my sweet, foolish Yoshi. Have you not realized? I am  _always_ with you, beloved…"

Slowly, almost shyly, she raised her head enough to lick him once along his muzzle. Her children had come to know the feline kisses of their mother well over the years, and yet in this moment, the gesture felt new again, and her smile broadened as she finished her thought.

"…as you are always with me."

The petals were all she could see now, and she reached for him. It was not enough. It was not nearly enough time… and yet, even as fear sped her heart, she caught the flash of red in the periphery of her vision.

"Do you see it, love? The red thread that bound our lives together cannot be severed. Not even by death." The ground shifted beneath them as the dream began to break apart, and she could not hold back the tears that dampened the fur of her cheeks, though she was not sure if it was the joy of his presence or the fear of his loss that caused them.

"Should you ever have need of me, for whatever reason, just follow it back to me. I will be here. I will be waiting. Until the end of time."

The dream was fading fast now, and her throat grew raw, choking on the sob that longed to break free. But she could not sully the moment with grief. Though her voice was soft, ragged, she had a smile for him in the end.

"YoshI. Husband. Hold me now, and let our dreams be nothing but sweetness…till we meet again."

* * *

Her hands, strange yet so distinctly  _hers_  in gesture and touch, were the net for his tears; ones of the mourning, of the desperation, of the joy and utter madness in every rise, pull, fall and fire within his chest, his very spirit. The brush of her tongue over his snout, the press of her brow into the nest of his, her tail tickling the skin of his foot — it was this, all of  _this_ , that he wanted to hold onto forever.

Not the pull of the strings of reality. Not the rising of the mist of dreams that already had begun to seep between them, soft and utterly cruel in its thoughtlessness, its inevitability, its necessity. Splinter wanted to scream for her, to cry for her, to tear the terrible fog with his claws, as she had done with the darkness from which she had saved him.

But even as the blindness claimed him at last, even as his final glimpse of her were the tears glittering upon her cheeks, he knew.

He knew that she was smiling.

And he could never do any less than smile back.

"I will. Always."

The thread — warm and red as the hearts it joined — wove easily into his fingers, and it fit perfectly into his palm. His hand closed around it, and he held it as tightly and gently as he would have held the woman that it bound him to.

_'Always.'_

And even as he drifted into the still abyss of the dreamless, even as his head fell upon his battered pillow, even as his hand curled around nothing more than the thread of an aging quilt, he did not let go.

He would never let go.

_'Until we meet again.'_

* * *

She clung to him as long as she could, but she could not fight the pull of waking. Too soon, he turned to mist beneath her fingers, and she fell into the formless dark, and her last glimpse of him was a flash of red in the darkness.

And if she woke with tears on her cheeks, and the perfume of sakura clinging to her fur, and the taste of him still on her tongue, she did not speak of it. _Could_ not speak of it, even if she wished to, for the memory of the dream hung in her mind as shining and delicate as a soap bubble, and she feared that any attempt to touch it would cause it to shatter.

She went through the motions of her day as though still dreaming, barely finding it in her to correct the children while they trained. It was April who came to her while she sat in meditation before the shrine, bearing a tray with a steaming pot and two small cups, one of which had been shattered and mended with gold.

"Sensei?" The girl ventured timidly. "Is there anything… I mean, you seem…" Her cheeks reddening, she set the tray before Shard and bowed. "I thought you might like some tea."

At last, for the first time since waking, a smile crossed Shard's face, and she gestured at the carpets before her. "That is very thoughtful of you sweetheart. Come, and join me. I think It is time I told you more of a woman named Tang Shen… and a man named Hamato Yoshi."

A man whom she would love until the stars faded and the earth was just a memory in the dreams of the cosmos.

_Until we meet again._

 

Till We Meet Again by [masart](http://masart.tumblr.com)


	12. Steadying Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place just after Wormquake.

The house was eerily quiet as Shard abandoned her meditation and made her way toward the kitchen. It had been a trying day for all of them, exhausting beyond all measure, and it would not have surprised her to learn that the children were asleep. All of it would have been draining, from the physical drain of the injuries in the fight with the tiger, to the emotional upheaval of learning that the child they had thought of as a deceased sister was in truth, alive.

Alive… and had attempted to kill her.

Shard groaned, pressing a hand to her aching head, shuddering inwardly as the memory of her weakness, brought on by her daughter's hand, tore at her.

* * *

_The combined fetters of the chains around her wrists and the poison winding its way through her system kept her on her knees, but she fought back through the haze of pain and delirium long enough to focus on the man before her. He was so twisted by year after year of lies and hatred, she could barely recognize the man who had once run with her, laughing, for shelter beneath a roadside shrine during a sudden downpour on their way to meet Yoshi, or worked with her for hours while she struggled to master a difficult form with the kusarigama. The man who had once been her friend._

_Mustering the last vestiges of her strength, she found her voice. There was not much to it, but he heard all the same._

_"…did you ever truly love me?"_

_For a long time, he was still. Silent. He stared fixedly ahead, and his voice when he spoke was quiet. Contemplative. Almost recognizable as the man she had known all those years ago._

_"There was a woman I loved once…." He looked down at her, and the eyes behind the mask hardened. "But she is gone. All that kneels before me now is a freak. A monster."_

_With that, he turned his back on her, and any remaining glimmer of the man she had once cared for as a brother flickered and went out for good. His eyes were as as empty as those of the child who had once been her daughter._

* * *

And yet, Miwa had saved her, in a way. Saved her with one hand, even as the Gentle Mercy with which she had poisoned Shard wound its way through her system. Oh, Miwa. Her poor, twisted, broken child…

Shard's resolve to save both her daughter and her sons had allowed her to purge the bulk of the toxin from her system. But traces lingered still, and she had put off the antidote for far too long. Her head spun, and her knees buckled beneath her.

But she did not fall. Strong hands caught at her, gentle despite their size, and she found herself staring down into worried green eyes.

"Sensei?" Raphael's brow furrowed anxiously. "Are you okay?"

"…no," she admitted. "I fear that I am not. Please, my son, I am in need of your help."

His eyes went wide with fear as tension laced the muscles beneath her hand. "I'll get Donnie—"

"No!" The exclamation sent a lance of pain through her skull, and she pressed her hand to it in a futile attempt to lessen the pounding. "No, please, I have no wish to worry your brothers unduly. Just… help me to sit."

"You're worrying  _me_ , Sensei," he muttered, but even as he protested, he was helping her to a stool. "What's wrong?"

"Forgive me, sweetheart." She sank down gratefully, resting her palms flat against the tabletop in an attempt to ground herself against the spinning in her head. "It is the remnant of the poison making itself known." She raised a hand, freezing his instinctive motion toward the doorway. "No, I do not need your brother. Merely your help in making a tea."

Scowling, Raphael folded his arms. "Why is everything tea with you?"

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. His words were harsh, but she understood the worry that lay beneath them. "Tea is good. Now, please begin with the green tin, and I shall tell you what needs to be added."

He kept up a low, running grumble as he set the kettle to boil and fetched what she needed, but he listened carefully as she directed him in the mixing of the antidote. Only once did he pause to ask, "how do you  _know_  all this stuff, anyway?"

She was starting to tremble now and she found it harder to catch her breath, but her eyes were clear as they met his, her only child with eyes to match her own. "It is one… of the arts… of a  _kunoichi._  Secret knowledge… shared….with one's daughters."

 _"…_ so this is something you should only be teaching  _her."_

 _"_ Mmm." Shard rested her head in her hands. "In this case…. I do not think…. anyone can fault…the breach in protocol."

He said little else as he finished the brew, pouring hot water over the mixture in the cup and setting the little egg timer they kept next to the stove. But when the small chime sounded and Shard attempted to lift the antidote, the tremors in her hands would not allow her purchase on the cup.

Once again, his strong, steady hands were there, wrapping around hers and guiding the cup to her lips. His expression remained sullen, and he would not meet her eyes, but his hold on her never wavered as she bent her head and lapped at the steaming potion. Only when it was gone did he help her set down the cup and withdraw his steadying hands, throwing himself down on the stool next to her and dropping his head into his folded arms on the table.

Sighing, Shard raised a hand to rest against his shell, but withdrew it at the last minute. Oh, Raphael. So strong, like an oak standing fast against the fiercest storm, yet so easily unsettled when the world did not render itself in black and white.

"Do you still love her? Even after all that?" His muffled voice drifted from between his arms, his accusatory eyes peering above them, thoughnot at her.

Closing her eyes briefly, Shard nodded. "I cannot help it. The Shredder has twisted her badly, but there is a spark of Miwa within her yet. And as long as that spark remains, I cannot turn my back on her."

"…and what if she does stop being crazy and evil? You gonna go buy her a dollhouse and set up house in a brownstone somewhere?"

Shard blinked at him, and at last she recognized the look on his face. She had last seen it as he had sat on the floor, hunched in on himself, staring forlornly at a half-chewed lettuce leaf.

"Raphael," she said, and this time her hand did come to rest on his shell, causing his head to duck slightly within it. "It is not Karai who now knows one of my most closely-guarded secrets, now is it?" That much startled him, she could tell, and though he still would not look at her, his brow furrowed as he considered that.

Gently, she stroked his shell, as she had done when he was just a little boy raging against the monsters in the dark. "Whatever else may happen, my love for the daughter-that-was can never change my love for you." A memory from his childhood stirred within her, and she took his strong hand in hers. "I am here for you, my son."

His hand tightened around hers, and once again, she was awed by the incredible strength he possessed, and the control with which he stopped just short of hurting her. His gaze drifted up to meet hers as guilt and shame drifted across his features. " _Kaasan…_ "

 _Kaasan_ …

Miwa had also spoken that word on the night she had tried to claim April's life. It was such a little word, but there was such power in it. Catching her breath, she tugged at his hand.

It was all the invitation he needed. Shifting slightly in his seat, he fell against her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist.

Embraces from him were few and far between these days, especially when it was not as part of a group effort with his brothers. But that just made them all the more precious. And ever the bravest of her children needed comfort sometimes. She licked the top of his head as she gathered him close, eliciting a muffled protest against the fur of her chest, and she stroked his head with a soft, steady hand, the tremors banished thanks to him. Her fierce, brash, angry child, whom she could always depend on when it truly counted.

"Oh, my brave baby," she whispered, earning another inarticulate protest. "I shall always be here for you."


	13. Angry Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've known from the beginning that each of the kids has their own "baby" name, but sometimes it takes a while to get the story of how they got them straight in my head. Uggables' art of Shard and Raph was instrumental is helping figure Raph's out.

**Angry Baby**

He never actually  _meant_  to get angry. It always crept up on him, like one of those cockroaches in the tunnels, never showing itself until it was too late. Sometimes, when it got really bad, he could taste it. It tasted like blood, and rust, and dirt, and smoke, and he hated it, but sometimes it was strong enough to make him forget the stuff that made him mad in the first place, and sometimes, he almost loved it for that.

And he hated himself for loving it.

Sensei had told them to keep themselves occupied, but the book in his hands was making him mad, too. Sensei had brought it back from the dump, all bright colours around the stains, but he still struggled with the English words, and the little guy in the story was really annoying. He kept trying to get the other guy to try some stupid green food and the guy didn't want to, and the Sam guy reminded Raph too much of Mikey, and he just wanted to hit him. The big guy didn't want to try the stupid food. Why wouldn't Sam just leave him alone?

"Raphie?"

He winced, his shoulders rising as his head sank partway into the shell at the stupid nickname. He'd told Donnie a hundred times not to call him that anymore. And Donnie was the last thing he needed right now. Donnie was already reading chapter books, and Raph's face burned as he quickly stowed the egg book behind his shell.

"Whaddyou want?"

Donnie flinched back at Raph's tone, but it wasn't enough to make him go away. Rocking back on his heels, he fidgeted with his hands as he glanced at the book Raph hadn't hidden very well. "Why don't you come play with me and Mikey for a while?"

Raph sighed loudly. "I don't  _wanna_  play with you and Mikey. You always play the dumbest—"

He broke off as he caught sight of Mikey over Donnie's shoulder. His youngest brother sat in the pit, making little 'pbbbbtt' noises with his tongue as he pushed a little car around the drain. A little red car, missing one wheel, with a lightning bolt on the side…

_Leo held tight to Raph's hand as he fished the car out of the storm waters. "Here, Raphie," he said, grinning as he held out the car. "It matches your shell."_

"That's  _mine_!" Raph bellowed, lunging past Donnie and throwing himself down into the pit.

"I was just playing with it—" Mikey began to protest, but his eyes widened as he caught sight of the look on Raph's face.

"It's mine. You can't have it. It's  _mine!"_  Anger burned at the back of his throat, choking him with the bitter, rusty taste of it, but he couldn't stop himself. He fell upon his brother, his fists fuelled by the anger. He heard Donnie calling out,  _"Raph, stop!"_ , felt Donnie's hands on his arm, holding him back, but a sharp tug took care of that. He heard Donnie's shell skid across the tiles and turned back to Mikey.

As soon as he'd realized what was happening, Mikey had retreated into his shell, and Raph's fists fell uselessly against scute and bone, but he still couldn't stop. Not even when Mikey's plastron began to darken with the tears that dripped down Raph's face. He didn't stop until a hand firmly gripped the back of his shell and ripped him away from his brother.

"That is  _enough!_ "

The harsh burst of Japanese had enough rage of its own to hold Raph's at bay. He twisted in the grip that held him dangling above the floor, and it was enough to show him his mother's face, her ears pinned back flat to her head and her teeth bared in a snarl. He withdrew partway into his own shell as Mikey emerged from his, and his little brother's face was streaked with tears.

"Michelangelo," Shard said, and there was no anger in her voice for Mikey. "I would like you to draw me a picture of that dream you told me about. The one with the dancing onigiri. Donatello, you will go with him, please."

" _Hai_ , Sensei," Raph's brothers chorused. Donnie helped Mikey to his feet and took his hand, leading him away toward the bedrooms, casting a glance over his shoulder at Raph as they went. Once, Raph might have felt satisfaction at the fear on Donnie's face. Now, he just felt sick. He hung slack in Shard's grip, shame burning through him as he stared at the little car, lying forgotten on its side in the corner.

"Raphael," Sensei said, and it was the slow, quiet growl that they all feared. "Explain yourself. Now."

"I—I—" He swallowed around the lump on his throat. "I d-don't kn-know, Sensei." He whimpered, and more tears slid down his face, falling with a soft patter on the ground below. "I—I was so m-mad…"

Shard took a deep, slow breath, and then walked toward the edge of the pit. Setting Raph down on the ledge, she stepped out of it and stood before him. Now that he had a good look at her, he felt even worse. Her kimono was normally so neat and pretty, but it hung loose around her shoulders, and her fur was messier than he'd ever seen it. He bowed his head, unable to look at her.

"Wait here," she said, and though he didn't hear her go, he knew she'd left him alone. But it wasn't long before she returned, dragging something behind her, and Raph looked up in surprise as she hung what looked like a giant, featureless doll on a hook.

"Come here, Raphael."

Shaking, he did as he was told, taking uneasy steps forward until he stood in front of the dummy.

"Hit it," Shard said.

He blinked up at her, uncertain, but she had that  _look_  on her face that told him she was really serious. Hesitantly, he pulled back his fist, and punch the dummy, setting it swaying on its hook.

"Harder."

Squaring his feet, he hauled back, and hit it again.

" _Harder_ , Raphael."

Raph's fists clenched. Taking a step back, he ran at the dummy at hit it with all of his strength. His knuckles stung as the shock of the blow travelled up his arm, but at the same time, he felt a little of that awful, tight, burning feeling inside of him ease a little.

"Good," Shard said. "Now, keep hitting it."

He looked up at her. "For how long?"

"Until you are no longer angry." She turned on her heel, her tail swishing beneath the hem of her kimono as she paced back toward the stairs. "Then you will come and find me."

His face burning, Raph turned and threw himself at the dummy, raining blow after blow upon it. His face was damp again, but he didn't care. He just took all of that thick, squirming anger in his belly and put it into his fists, striking over and over, not daring to stop. 'Cause as long as he was hitting the dummy, he wasn't hitting anyone else.

* * *

He didn't know how long he was at it. Shard had said to stop when he wasn't mad anymore, but it seemed like every time he stopped being mad about one thing, something else popped into his head and made him mad all over again. It wasn't until he took a wobbly swing at the dummy, missed, and toppled to the floor that he finally stopped.

Raph lay there for a long time, panting as he stared at the little car where it lay, a bright red blotch of colour in the grey of the pit. That had been hard. But the next part of Shard's instructions were even harder.

Lacking the strength to stand, he pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled slowly over to the stairs. One at a time, he pulled himself up them, not letting himself think about how many more there were to go, until at last he rolled up the final step and sprawled across the landing. He took another moment to lie there, gathering his strength, before he pushed himself back to his hands and knees and dragged himself toward the doorway.

The dim light inside showed only shadows as Raph crept across the carpet. The air hung thick with strange smells, not the usual tea and incense, but pungent herbs, and sweat, and other things that Raph didn't even want to think about. But it was the sound that was the worst. That sound filled the dark, thick and suffocating, and Raph's dreams had turned it into the wet, snarling breaths of a monster, waiting in the dark to devour his brothers.

But as much as it frightened him, he kept crawling, one hand in front of the other, until his fingers brushed against silk. With a tiny whimper, he collapsed across his mother's lap, burying his face against her, but only when her soft hand moved to brush against his shell did his tears begin to dampen the fabric beneath him.

"I'm sorry,  _Kaasan_ ," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt Mikey."

Shard's quiet sigh filled the room, and Raph closed his eyes so that he didn't have to focus on anything but the soothing motions of her hand on his shell. "I know, sweetheart. Ah, Raphael. You are so much like my Yoshi sometimes. He, too, would let his anger control him, and his anger was at its worst when he was afraid." Her hand left his shell to brush against his cheek, the velvety fur on her fingers drying his tears. "You have so much anger in you, Raphael. Whatever am I to do with you?"

He sniffled miserably into her lap. "Tie me in a bag and throw me in the storm drain?"

Her laugh broke over him like a wave of fresh air, teasing a watery smile out of him, so that he finally dared to look up at her. She smiled down at him as her hand brushed over his head. "No," she said, "I do not think we shall need to do anything so drastic as all that."

That, at last, gave him the courage to look at the one thing he'd been avoiding at all costs. He turned his head, and took a long, steadying breath.

A small brazier burned at the head of the little futon, curls of aromatic smoke drifting from the small bowl of herbs that Sensei had placed there. The face that peeped out from beneath the bundles of blankets was far too pale, and every gurgling, wheezing breath dug into Raph like a thorn beneath his skin.

"Sensei?" Raph whispered. "Is Leo gonna die?"

Shard's breath caught, and Raph wasn't sure if it was a laugh or if she was crying. "No, sweetheart," she said. "But he is very sick."

Raph frowned, reaching out his hand and wrapping it around one of his mother's fingers. "I want him to wake up now."

"As do I, my darling." Her other hand traced over his scutes. "And so shall he do when he is ready, and you and I shall watch over him until then, and remind him that he has to come back. And you must promise me that whenever you feel angry from now on, you will do as you have done today. You shall hit the dummy until you are not angry anymore, and not your brothers. When this is over, we shall begin your proper training; I have been remiss, but this unchecked anger cannot continue. Do you understand?"

" _Hai_ , Sensei," Raph said, resting his cheek against the soft silk beneath him.

Leo had better hurry up. Raph wasn't sure his hands could take that much punching.

* * *

He needed the dummy a lot over the next couple of days. And he couldn't stop himself from hitting his brothers sometimes - but never hard enough to hurt them, and it was only ever once before he caught himself and turned his fists on the dummy instead.

As he finished one of his bouts, gasping for breath as he leaned against the dummy for support, his gaze fell on his youngest brother, and for the first time in a while, what he felt wasn't anger. Donnie was seated on his own not far off, lost in his latest chapter book, leaving Mikey alone to play by himself. Mikey had put a stick through the holes of two buttons and tied them to a piece of driftwood, and he knelt on the floor pushing it around slowly. But the buttons kept falling off, and eventually, the stick snapped, leaving Mikey staring at the wood with a look on his face that made Raph mad again. But this time, he wasn't mad at Mikey, and that other feeling wouldn't go away. As he stared at his brother, his brow furrowed and a thought drifted through his mind.

_What would Leo do?_

Raph knew exactly what Leo would do. With a sigh, Raph pushed away from the dummy and wandered back to his room, dragging his feet as he went. Partly because he was tired, and partly because what he was about to do annoyed him so much. But he returned to the pit not much later, dropping down next to Mikey and trying to ignore the way Mikey cringed away from him.

"Here," Raph said, and held out his hand. The little red car with the lightning bolt sat in his outstretched palm.

Mikey stared at it for a moment, and even Donnie was looking over the top of his book at them. Slowly, as though he suspected it was a trick, Mikey took the car out of Raph's hand. As soon as he did, Raph sat down and folded his arms with a huff, determined to ignore whatever it was that Mikey was going to do with it. So he was unprepared when his brother barrelled into him and clung like a monkey, laughing happily as his arms went into a stranglehold around Raph's neck.

"Ack!" Raph went down hard, wincing as his shell cracked against the concrete. "Mikey, quit it!"

But he didn't push him away.

_"Donatello!"_

All three turtles froze suddenly as the cry burst from the dojo. It was Sensei's voice, but it wasn't the questiony way she called to them when she just wanted to know where they were, or the bossy voice she used when she wanted them to come do something. This voice… this voice was scared.

Donnie was on his feet and running a second later, and Raph and Mikey weren't far behind. Raph was faster, and Donnie was in his way, and it was tempting to reach out and shove Donnie down, but he didn't. As hard as it was, he let Donnie go first as the three brothers tumbled into the room.

Instantly, Raph wished he'd stayed outside. That sound - that awful sound - was way worse, like the growling of an animal waiting to eat them all up. Raph felt Mikey's hands lock tightly around the edge of his shell as Donnie took a few steps toward Master Shard. It was so hot in the room that she'd pulled her kimono down around her waist, but Leo was shivering so hard they could see it through the piles of blankets.

" _Sensei?_ " Donnie asked quietly.

"Ah, there you are," Shard said. Her voice was as calm as it ever was, but her hand was shaking as she sponged Leo's head with a damp cloth. "Do you know the herbs that grow beneath the grates in the east tunnels?"

" _Hai,_  Sensei," Donnie said, nodding eagerly.

Shard pressed a little basket into Donnie's hands. "I need you to go gather some for me, precious, and I need you to do it quickly. Take your brothers."

Donnie looked over his shoulder at Raph. "Do I hafta?"

"Yes." It was the voice you didn't argue with unless you wanted to get hit with the stick, and Donnie sighed in resignation, turning and heading toward the door with the basket clutched close to his chest. "Raphael," Shard added, and Raph tore his gaze away from Leo to look at her. "Take care of your brothers."

Raph's fists clenched, and he nodded. Reaching back, he unhooked Mikey's fingers from his shell and took his hand, tugging him after Donnie. And if Sensei noticed that he went a little faster than he should to get away from that awful sound, she was nice enough not to say anything.

* * *

"Donnie, hurry up!" Raph moaned. "We gotta get back."

"I know that," Donnie said, looking up from his work long enough to glare at him. "But I don't wanna go to fast or the leaves'll fall off, and that's the important part that Sensei needs." Carefully, he transferred his handful of plants to the basket Mikey held. "I'll be done soon."

Raph clenched his fists, his breath coming sharp through his nose. He hated,  _hated_  when Donnie used that tone of voice on him, like he was some kind of baby. Raph was the older one, not Donnie. Not by much, but he  _was_  older. The taste of rust and ash began to creep up the back of his throat, but there was no dummy to hit here.

"This is  _stupid_." He turned on his heel, grabbing a stick off the ground as he went. "Call me when you're done picking stupid flowers."

He heard Donnie and Mikey calling after him, but he didn't stop to listen. He needed to get away. Needed to get out. Needed… needed….

_"Raph?" Leo stood up, a hand on his head, and he was swaying on his feet. Raph stopped pushing the little car around to look up at his brother, a question in his eyes. "Raph, I don't feel so good. Could you…" But Leo didn't finish his sentence. He was falling, and Raph was reaching out to catch him, screaming for their mother to come and make everything better._

The stick thudded against the walls, echoing around the empty tunnel, the shock of it running through Raph's arm as he tried to rid himself of the memory. Stupid Leo. Stupid sickness. Stupid plants. Why couldn't Leo just be better? Why couldn't Leo… Leo….

"Leo," Raph whimpered, his vision blurring as he slid down the wall and buried his head against his knees.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, just trying to breathe without breaking. It wasn't until a strange sound reached him that he raised his head, frowning. The tunnels were doing something to the sound, twisting it and bending it out of shape. But it sounded almost like…

"Mikey," Raph breathed. In another second, he was on his feet and tearing down the tunnel back toward his brothers.

Mikey was screaming.

Raph skidded around the corner, and stopped dead in his tracks, freezing in terror. The sound was all around them. The wet, snarling, growling sound. It was the monster… the monster in the dark come to eat them all. Donnie and Mikey cowered against a wall, crying, the basket clutched between them as they stared into the shadows. And the shadows stared back.

Slowly, the source of the sound crept slowly into the light cast by the grate above.

The dog was filthy, covered in scars from a lifetime of fighting, its teeth gleaming as its lips pulled back. They'd come across strays in the tunnels before, though they didn't stick around long when Sensei was with them. Most of them, Raph felt sorry for. They'd been cast off, unwanted by the people up top, just like his family. But this one was different. Its head swung around, meeting Raph's eye, and something familiar passed between them. Something deep. Something that recognized itself in the other.

This one… this one had been born mean.

Then, with a sharp snarl, the dog lunged. Its teeth locked around the edge of Mikey's shell, and Mikey was screaming, the dog shaking him as it dragged Mikey back into the shadows.

And the taste of blood, and rust, and smoke, and ash flooded Raphael's mouth as his hand tightened around the stick.

"Get away from my  _brother_!" he screamed, and the world dissolved into red.

* * *

Shard's gasp filled the room as the three of them dragged themselves back through the doorway, and she was on her feet and running, dropping to her knees before them. "What  _happened?"_  she demanded, running her hands over the tear stains on their faces. As much as Raph disliked being coddled when his brothers could see, he closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, letting it take some of the anger away.

"There was a big dog in the tunnels, Sensei," Donnie said, holding out the basket. She took it from him quietly as Mikey pushed in front of his brother, bouncing on his toes as he pointed at the scratches on his shell.

"An' it grabbed me and it was gonna  _eat_  me, Sensei! But then Raph came in with a big stick and made it let me go! He was  _awesome_."

"Was he now?" Shard said, looking at Raph.

His face burning, Raph looked down at his feet. "I only had to hit it a couple of times. Then it dropped Mikey and ran off."

Shard nodded. "I see. We shall talk of this later, you and I. Donatello, go fetch the iron teapot, please."

Raph said nothing, remaining silent on the edges of the room as Shard plucked the leaves off of the plants Donnie had gathered and dropped them into the teapot as it heated over the brazier. As the smell of green things filled the room, he watched as Mikey, and then Donnie, settled themselves on the carpet and dropped off to sleep as exhaustion and the heat of the room overwhelmed them. Only then did he slink back to his mother's side.

Her kimono was loose again, opened against the heat of the brazier, but she was her usual collected self as she looked down upon him. "Oh, my Raphael. Come here."

He turned his head away, reluctant to look at her as she plucked him off the floor and held him in her lap. He wasn't sorry. He couldn't be sorry. The dog was going to take Mikey, and then they'd never have gotten the plants Leo needed. He couldn't be sorry for that. He just  _couldn't_.

He knew about the names she had for Mikey and Donnie. They were dumb, but it had still bugged him a little that she didn't have one for him. And now what was left for him?

"I guess this makes me your Angry Baby," he said, and the words burned in his throat and tasted of ash. He was ashamed. He'd failed her.

But she only smiled, and pulled him closer, her hand gently cupping his chin to turn his face back to her. "Once, perhaps, I might have considered that name for you," she said. "But I do not think it yours. There is great anger in you, Raphael, that cannot be denied, but today you channeled that anger and used it to protect your three brothers." The hand that wasn't under his chin came to rest at the back of his head, and Raph felt his lip beginning to tremble as his eyes stung. But his mother wasn't done yet. "You used your anger to face your fear, Raphael. And you defeated it."

"But I was so scared." Shaking, he finally allowed himself to admit what he couldn't. "I'm still scared. I don't want Leo to die."

"Oh, my darling," Shard breathed. "I know. There is no shame in that fear. Just as there is no shame in sharing it when it threatens to overwhelm you. I am here for you, my son."

_I am here for you, my son…_

Those words sank to his heart, to the dark aching place inside of himself, and ripped all the shame, the guilt, the fear away, leaving him shaking and wrung dry. But for the first time in a very long time, he wasn't the least bit angry.

And as the roughness of her tongue rasped across his head, a smile spread across his face even as a tear slipped down his cheek. He closed his eyes and let himself fall forward, wrapping his arms around as much of her as he could reach. "I love you,  _Kaasan_ ," he whispered, safe in the knowledge that there was no one else to hear.

After a long, quiet moment, he felt the tickle of her whiskers as her chin came to rest against the top of his head, and the prick of gentle claws as her fingers brushed over his head. "And I you. My Brave Baby."

Safe in his mother's arms at last, Raph snuggled deeper against her chest. "I like than name," he murmured against her fur. And the last thing he heard as he followed his brothers into sleep was the quiet thunder of her purr beneath his cheek.

* * *

Raph woke slowly, his hands clenching at the unfamiliar fabric beneath them. He took a moment to realize that it was silk.  _Sensei?_  He was sleeping sprawled across Sensei's lap, and the smell of strange green things was in his nose, brushing against the back of his throat. But why? Why was-?

 _Leo_.

His eyes flew open, sudden fear squeezing around his heart. And he stared.

Shard's hand was beneath Leo's shell, holding him upright as her other hand steadied the cup held between Leo's shaking hands. Leo's eyes were closed as he sipped at the stinky tea, but when Shard took the cup away, they opened, and he smiled as his gaze landed on Raph.

"Hey, Raphie." Leo's voice was shaky, and weak, but Raph didn't care. It was so  _good_  to hear it again. "Sorry for waking you up."

Pulling himself to his knees, Raph rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, shaking his head. "Naw. I was gonna get up anyway. Have to keep an eye on you, don't I?"

"Raphael has been a great help," Shard said, setting the cup aside and lowering Leo to the futon again. "And he will be an even greater help to me now if he would help keep you warm. You are going to be fine, of course, but it would help speed your recovery."

Raph looked up at his mother, not understanding for a moment, until she looked pointedly at where Leo lay and gave a short jerk of her head, with a smile that only Raph could see.

An answering smile spread across Raph's face, and his hands tightened on the silk beneath them for a moment before her let go of her kimono and crawled over to where Leo lay. "If I hafta," Raph grumbled, plopping himself next to Leo and wrapping his arms around his brother. "But only 'cause it's boring watching you lie here doing nothing."

"Mmmm," Leo said, already falling asleep again, but Raph wasn't worried. If Sensei said he was going to be fine, then he  _was_.

As his eyes drifted closed and he began to follow his brother back into sleep, he felt his mother's hand brush along the back of his shell, and he smiled as the soft weight of a blanket fell around them. He could hear Shard moving around, putting away the brazier that was no longer needed. Could hear Donnie and Mikey snoring quietly from their places around the futon. But the loudest sound was the one beneath his ear, where his head rested against Leo's plastron, and as he fell asleep, it was to the quiet music of his brother's breath moving clear and clean through his lungs.

There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. And even if there was, Raph knew how to face it now. Because he wasn't just scared. He wasn't just angry. He was  _brave_. And no matter how scared or mad he got, there wasn't anything in the world that he wouldn't fight to keep his family safe.

Angry Baby by [Uggables](http://uggables.tumblr.com)


	14. A Shard of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one fundamental difference between Shard's canon and TMNT show canon, and that difference is Casey Jones. That difference is entirely the result of a roleplay with Radiojane's fantastic goongala-jones, and I'm delighted that she's given me permission to share it here. There are a few cosmetic changes to unify the style with the rest of Shards of a Memory, but for the most part, everything Casey is entirely her talent.

"We know yous is carryin' the key to your old man's shop, Jones. Why you even tryin' to help him, ha? Everyone on the block knows what happens in your house, kid. Everyone knows your dad is just a useless drunk these days. You should join up with us, Jones. We'd watch your back for you, 'n you'd be our brother. No one would ever rough yous up again."

Casey fought off the burning sensation in his eyes as he sat on the cold asphalt in front of his father's shop, a steady trickle of red running from his nose. No one would ever rough him up, this older jerk-face kid says; seems kind of backwards, considering the jerk just gave him a bloody nose. Raising his eyes from their locked position on the older boy's shoes, Casey Jones took in the faces of the five delinquents that had him surrounded, each of them looking more smug than the next. They were the high schoolers from his neighborhood, and they'd been eyeing his family's shop for some time now, knowing that his drunkard dad didn't bother to empty out the cash register most nights.

"So how 'bout it, Jones? It don't matter that yous is so small, you'll grow into the crew soon enough." The leader of the crew, the one who just moments ago had struck down the 10-year-old at his feet, offered his hand to the smaller boy.

Casey stared at the hand for a moment, but the thought of taking it didn't cross his mind for even a second. "Y-Yous guys… Yous guys go ta hell!" Lashing out, he suddenly threw his clenched fist into the leader's groin, earning a rather undignified cry from the punk. Scraping himself up onto his feet, Jones slammed his boney shoulder into the gut of the next kid that tried to grab him, clearing a path for himself before bolting down an alleyway in an attempt to escape. It was gonna be bad news if they caught him now. Before, they might've just roughed him up until his eyes swelled shut, but now…

It wasn't long until one of the taller boys caught up to him in the dark alleyway, seizing him aggressively by the back of his shirt before throwing him down to the ground.  _Alright, Jones. This is it. There might be five of them, and they might be twice your size and older, but what other choice is there besides standing up and fighting?_  Quickly rising and facing his foes, Casey raised his small fists in preparation, but was soon seeing sparks of bright colors as a fist collided with his cheek.

* * *

Shard pulled the dark scarf over her head, turning back to face her children one last time. "And you are sure…."

"We can watch Space Heroes, one nutritious snack, and bed by ten. We're sure,  _Kaasan._ " Leonardo held his hands clasped behind his back, rocking a little on his heels.

"I'm not sure why Leo gets to be in charge," Raphael muttered quietly.

"Because he is the eldest." Shard sighed, shaking her head a little. "You are growing up so fast…"

Michelangelo ran across the room, throwing himself into a leap. She just barely had time to put her arms out to catch him, drawing him into a fierce hug as she licked his face. He giggled, squirming as he protested, "Mum, quit it!" But his arms held her tightly. Licking him one final time, she set him down and smoothed the fabric of her abaya.

"Be good, my babies," she said, and waved to them as she slipped into the darkness of the tunnels.

She hated to leave them, but they were growing boys and they needed to eat. And sadly, what she could provide for them was shockingly limited. So she was forced to the surface once again, under cover of darkness, to seek out sustenance for her family.

The streets were largely deserted at this time, and she had had some luck in the dumpster behind one of the grocery stores, but as she drifted through the alleyways, she found that the one that she usually took was occupied. She caught her breath, keeping to the shadows as she watched the boys quarreling.

Only it was more than quarreling. As she watched, the leader of the gaggle of boys struck down the littlest amongst them, but the child did not stay down long. He was on his feet, fists raised — she fought down the part of her that wanted to critique his stance — and she told herself to leave. To forget what she had seen.

Until they struck him down again. At that, she could stand no more. She could not let herself be seen… but perhaps she could be of help. Silently lifting the lid from a nearby trash can, she waited until the leader's head was in view, and then struck. The lid struck him square on the pressure point she was aiming for, and he went down hard.

"Now run," she whispered under her breath, her eyes on the littlest boy. He couldn't be much older than her own children. "Do not try to be a hero. Get out now, while you can."

* * *

Blinking the stars out of his fogged vision, Casey looked up at the leader of the crew just in time to see a trash can lid suddenly strike the boy just so as to send him crashing down into an unplanned naptime. Shaking off his stupor, he took a few steps backwards as the other four boys looked between themselves, confusion seizing the situation. Did he just hear a voice come from somewhere in the shadows…?

"What the heck was that, you see that—?" The tallest boy of the bunch looked to the other two, a second replying, "It was Jones! He threw it!" Mutually resolving their next move, driven by their mob-mentality, the four stalked towards their victim, a third shouting, "We're gonna get those keys off ya, Jones, even if we gotta pry 'em outta yer cold fingers! A few lucky shots ain't gonna be enough ta save ya!"

 _It's been too long._ These punks had been terrorizing his block for longer than he could remember now.  _They do whatever they want, and they get away with it. Why? Because they're bigger, they're stronger… and because no one will stand up to them_. Clenching his fists tightly and raising them up once more, Casey turned his head to the side briefly to spit out a wad of thick blood before pausing, his eye caught by something sticking out of a garbage can.

Quickly sidestepping to the can, he grabbed and yanked out a bent-up, metal pipe, pivoting on his heel to face his foes once more. "Y-You jerks wanna get your ugly faces rearranged?! C'mon! I—I'll kill yous!" Taking a bold lunge towards the older boys, he swung the pipe wildly, a few yelps and cracks sounding as he managed to land a few hits. "Leave my dad's shop alone!"

The older boys backed off in disbelief at the smaller one's ungoverned swings, one of them shouting, "Man, he's totally lost it! Stupid brat!" With a blunt kick to the chest, Jones was once more sent to the ground, the older boys coming down on him like vultures on fresh meat. Casey locked his hands around the pipe in a vice grip as the others tried to pry it away from him, knowing good and well it'd be used against him should he let them have it.

* * *

" _Ai yah,"_  Shard whispered, her claws knotting in the fabric of her abaya as she watched the others regroup around the hapless little boy. He should have run, but it was far too late now, and now he bore the brunt of the bullies' anger for Shard's intervention. Silently, she willed him to bolt, to move, to find a way out. Her sons could have done it… but her sons, even at their tender age, were ninja, and trained to avoid precisely the sort of cruelty these boys intended to visit on their victim.

But the little one was not finished. He armed himself, and Shard had to give him credit for his spirit. Yet, it was not enough. Though his attackers did not escape entirely unscathed, they were far too many, and he went down again. Shard flinched as his head hit the pavement, and the others rained their vengeance down upon him. Yet through it all, he did not relinquish his hold on his weapon.

_Like a good little ninja._

She should have turned around long ago. Ignored the altercation in the alley. But it was far too late now. She could no more ignore this injustice than she could ignore the cries of one of her own children. Gathering her abaya around her, Shard moved forward and struck.

The little thugs never knew what hit them. Like a shadow given life, she moved thorough the darkness, a nightmare that struck hard and faded away, seeking out the pressure points that would leave them paralyzed and insensate for quite some time — for despite their repugnant cruelty, they were as yet children themselves, and she could not bring herself to visit any more severe punishment upon them.

In moments, it was over. The only one still moving was the little boy, bleeding now, and still clinging to his weapon. Silently, she knelt next to him, drawing her scarf further over her face to hide herself in its shadow. "Easy, little one. It is over. They cannot harm you any longer." She tilted her head, her hackles rising at his obvious distress as she fought back the urge to reach out for him. "Can you stand, young one?"

* * *

It felt as though it would never end, that it would go on forever. Casey eventually couldn't discern one strike from the next or previous, nor could he tell any longer where he was being struck. Strangely enough, his mind began to wander away from his current situation, drifting into some distant fog in the back of his mind. The only thing he remained aware of was his hold on the metal pipe, as if it was his only tie to reality, everything else beginning to go numb.

They might kill him. He'd heard of teenagers killing other kids in neighborhoods like his. Especially when there was money involved, like that which lay in the cash register of his old man's shop. Despite what may happen to him, however, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for himself, something he'd not experienced for a long time. He stood up for himself, for what remained of his family's honor. If nothing else, maybe he'd see his mom again, should it end for him tonight.

He wasn't sure when, but at some point, the pounding of fists against his body, dulled by his shut off senses, ceased. Easing his eyes open in a daze, he was met by the sight of a dark figure towering over him, a soft sound escaping them. A voice, a  _woman's_  voice. A kind, gentle voice, one much like his mother's. Did he die? Was she here to take him up into the clouds?

Unlocking his fingers, Casey let the pipe fall away from his hands, staring up at the womanly figure, his head churning as he tried to understand what she was saying. The second time she spoke, however, it was as though a trigger was pulled, and a sudden hiccup left the battered youth. Raising his trembling hands towards the figure encased in shadows, he didn't even try to hold back the tears that ran from his swollen eyes, cleansing away some of the dirt on his cheeks.

"'Missed you…"

* * *

The echo of the pipe hitting the concrete rang painfully loud between the buildings, but as much as that grated against her need for stealth, she had little mind for it. In that moment, the beginning and the end of her world was the broken child on the ground before her, something of his life story written in the heartbreaking way he reached for her, the tears streaming down his face. Despite every ounce of common sense that screamed against it, she reached out and took his hands in hers.

A groan from the ground behind her broke into her thoughts, and she turned away from the little boy to where the leader of the gang lay, already beginning to stir. Between one breath and the next, she was upon him, her claws tearing through his shirt as she lifted him from the ground and brought him up hard against a wall. A growl rumbled through her, underscoring her words as he brought her face very close to his, so that he could see the gleam of what little light there was against her fangs.

"I know you now," she breathed, very softly, for her words were not for any other but him. "If you ever harm a child again, I will come after you in the night, and there is no force in the world that will save you from me. Do you understand?"

She received no answer but a telltale smell as the teenager wet himself. In disgust, she released him, letting him fall unconscious once again as he hit the ground. The others would start to wake up soon, and she could not leave the boy alone with them. Not in his current state.

Returning to the child, she knelt again, resting a soft hand against his matted hair. "You cannot stay here, sweetheart. I shall take you somewhere safe. Do not be afraid."

Carefully, oh so carefully, she gathered the child into her arms and stood, cradling him against her as she checked for an escape. A moment later, the alley was empty of all save the groaning teenagers as Shard took the child and vanished into the shadows.

* * *

A great sense of security washed over Casey's mind as his reaching hands were encased in an intense warmth; each feeling was one that he'd not experienced in some time. Despite his dazed state of mind, however, he also felt something a little odd about the woman's hands. They were soft, as a woman's hands were generally considered to be, but it was not quite like the touch of skin. The very shape even drew a question to his mind, though his wonderings passed into oblivion just as soon as they arrived. Perhaps she was just wearing gloves of some sort.

As soon as the comforting touch was bestowed upon his hands, however, it slipped away just moments later. The child's breathing hitched as he saw the shadowy figure escape his fogged peripheral vision, believing himself to be abandoned once more. He struggled to fight off the rising fear that threatend to churn his stomach and turn the inside of his chest to ice, convincing himself that he could make it out of this on his own.

Before his thoughts could further consume him into a state of despair, he was suddenly rejoined by his savior, her gentle voice once more entering the cold air of the night. Again he was granted a soothing touch as her hand rested on his head, and he nodded lightly to her words. "'K—… 'Kay…"

Lifted into the woman's arms, Casey almost found himself nodding off instantly as warmth radiated from her chest as he was held to it, his cheek finding refuge in the nook of her shoulder. The woman's movements were incredibly graceful and smooth, and for a moment he was not sure that they were actually moving until he opened his eyes just enough to see the shifting shapes of the dark landscape going by rather quickly. Not a sound left her form as she took him into the night, only the gentle whistle of the wind meeting his sore ears. Lulled by the surreal tranquility of the moment, Casey allowed his eyes to sink shut, feeling secure enough to rest.

What could be anything from a minute to an hour later, Casey jolted, raising his hands out in front of himself in an instinctive act of defense as he woke up. Uncertain of his surroundings, his mind raced and crept towards the verge of panic, his body positioned as if he was lying down. "Don't—!"

* * *

As she bore him away from his tormentors, leaving the darkness of the alley behind, she felt him go limp in her arms. She glanced down in distress, but it seemed he was only sleeping. A wave of fondness washed over her as his head lolled against her shoulder, his face relaxed in sleep. Perhaps it was merely her habit of taking in lost little ones, but from what she had heard, he had stood fast defending something important to him against those who were clearly intent on doing wrong, even when to give in would have spared him pain, and her heart went out to him.

Leaping to a fire escape, she ascended quickly to the top of a building that had been her refuge on many a night. The occupants had created a rooftop garden, and the twining boughs and branches of the many potted trees formed a small oasis in the middle of the city that would shield them from prying eyes.

Shard set him down carefully, cushioning his head on a pile of sacking, and brushed the shaggy black hair away from his brow. A sharp hiss left her as she saw the cut beneath, still seeping blood a little. "There now, that will never do," she said softly.

Reaching into the satchel she carried she pulled out a few spare scraps of fabric she had gathered on her last trip and not had time to pull from the satchel yet. With a small smile of triumph, she found what she sought at the bottom, and withdrew a crumpled handkerchief. Balling up the fabric, she pressed it lightly against his wound and bound the dressing in place with the handkerchief.

He had slept peacefully through her ministrations, but as she finished, he began to stir. He tensed, his expression contorting in panic, and he threw his hands before him with a cry.

"Hush, little one," she soothed, reaching up as she did so to ensure her scarf was still in place. "You are safe now. I promise, I will not harm you."

* * *

Once more met by the woman's serene voice, the memories of the night's events thus far worked their way through the cracks of Casey's splitting headache. Slowly, he lowered his hands back to his side, though briefly reached up to touch the treated wound on his forehead.

"Am I dead? Is yous an angel? Yous' a nice one…" The youth's odd babbling trailed off as he let the rush of adrenaline from his startled awakening wear down. Looking around at the unexpected sight of lush plant life surrounding them, his brows furrowed slightly, "Is this Narnia? Does Heaven look like Narnia? Is the city gone? Was it zombies?" His face quirked into a look of confusion before his young mind dismissed the questions, moving his focus back to the woman before him.

"You're the one that threw that trash can lid, huh…" Something of a rather mature look suddenly came to the youth's deep, brown eyes as he gave her a fixed stare, observing only what he could see in the shadows draping her face. "I could'a handled 'em myself, I'm not a baby, y'know… but… but you saved me, huh…"

The child went quiet for a moment, his chattiness put on pause before it started up again, "Yous is an angel, huh. You must be. Nice ladies ain't out at night like dis, 'n they don't throw trash can lids. You seen my mom? She's real pretty, she's got long blond hair, it's all wavy 'n smells like flowery stuffs…" Chances were, the hit to the boy's head was what would mostly explain his odd state of mind; his age accounting for the rest.

* * *

A soft laugh escaped her at the barrage of questions, and she was reminded for a moment of her youngest. Shifting slightly, ensuring that she still had the security of the shadows, she gave a small shake of her head. "I wish I could take you to a realm of fantasy, my little one, but you will have to settle for a very nice roof. But it will keep us safe until you are ready to move again." She smiled, the warmth of it creeping into her voice as she added, "and I am most certain that you are able to take care of yourself. I just helped a little."

But as the questions turned more personal, a small thread of sorrow wove through her, and she brushed a gentle hand over his hair. "I am no angel, though. Just a mother forced out on a night like this, as you say, because my children are hungry and I must find them food. But it is fortunate for us both that I found you."

Picking up a scrap of fabric that had not made it into his dressings, she dabbed lightly at his damp cheeks, wiping the blood and the grime away until she could see the child beneath. "I am sure your mother is a lovely angel. Perhaps she is with my daughter. I should like to think that my Miwa has someone good and kind to watch out for her until I can be with her again." Finishing with her ministrations, she sat back on her heels. "There. I knew there was a handsome young man under all that dirt."

* * *

He liked the way this woman spoke to him.  _My little one._ _It was_ so kind, the way she said it; like he really was her little one. It was a treatment he'd been without for a while, and it brought back a warmth he'd missed. He smirked a little as she agreed that he was capable of looking after himself, feeling a little spring of pride well up in his chest.

Casey's mouth parted open in silence, however, when she explained why she was out in the first place, in search of nourishment for her children. "Yous ain't got no food?" He scrunched his face up as she dabbed at his cheeks, nose crinkling. Hearing of the woman's lost daughter, however, drew one of his eyes open to look up at her, "I'm sorry… My mom's a good mom, y'know, she'll take care of your baby… Yous a good mom, too, I can tell, cuz you got warm hands. My mom's hands were warm, too, 'n she used ta rub my cheeks 'n ears when it'd snow."

The youth's eyes defied their swollen edges and opened widely when she declared his handsomeness, and soon the look was joined by a broad smile. Ducking his chin inwards shyly as his cheeks reddened at the compliment, he let out a bashful giggle. "Thank you, Missus…"

Returning his unwavering gaze to where he suspected the woman's eyes to be, Casey grunted lightly as he forced himself to sit up. "If yous is hungry, 'n your kids, I can get you all the food ya need." Digging into his pocket, he brandished the spare key to his father's shop and held it up. "My pops gots dis store, but we don't get so many people comin' to buy stuff no more, an' we got a whole room in the back that has food and stuff that we can't sell. Some of it might be a lil' too old to put on the shelf, but… but Dad would never notice if it was gone, and really it's still good, Dad just says that the store ain't allowed to put it out after a couple 'a weeks. He's just gonna throw it away if it stays there any longer…"

Reaching out, he held the woman's hand and put the key in it. "This'll get ya in, 'n yous 'n your kids won't be hungry no more…"

* * *

Shard had had no way of knowing what sort of child she had pulled from that alley. Not really. But his words about her lost little girl moved her deeply, and her hand shook just a little as she rubbed it gently across his cheek, smiling fondly as he blushed at her words. He reminded her somewhat of Raphael as well, all brusqueness and prickles hiding a core of sweetness.

But it was his next words that set her reeling as though the world had shifted beneath her, and she raised her hand to stifle her gasp. She had never considered that option — not in a million years. But as his little hands grasped for hers and pressed the key into them, she felt the tears prick at her eyes. For eight years now, she had fed her children on what little they could scavenge. On the algae and worms that grew plentiful in the sewers, and it was nutritional enough, but to have the opportunity to give  _real_  food to her children, for the first time….

"You are a good boy," she whispered, reaching out to stroke his hair again. "A very good boy. I—-" her voice caught, part of her appalled at her daring, but the other part of her yearning for some way to express the depth of her gratitude to this motherless boy who would, in some small way, change her life for the better. "—I would hug you, if you would allow it?"

* * *

A look of concern knotted itself across the boy's brow as he was unable to read the woman for a moment as she was silent after his offer, unsure if she was sad or perhaps angry with him. As she spoke her praise to him, however, a bright smile replaced the worried expression. It was a cleansing moment in more ways than one, to hear such words coming from someone. It seemed that other adults had been trying to convince him recently that he was nothing but trouble, and he was just starting to believe it.

He trusted this woman's judgment, though, so if she said he was good, then it must be true. Subtly leaning into every gentle touch that was bestowed upon him, he paused when the keen sense of empathy that came with his age caught on to a slight shift in her demeanor.

The woman barely had the chance to finish her sentence before Casey nearly launched himself forward, his wounds forgotten and ignored as he wrapped his scrawny arms around her in a warm embrace. "I like good people, 'n I like to help 'em… Yous is a real nice lady, 'n I bet you gots nice kids, too. Maybe we'll all be best friends someday, if we ever live on the same block or go to the same school, or somethin'." Pulling his head back slightly, now a bit closer, he was able to direct his eyes more correctly to focus on the faint shimmer of moonlight that caught on the enigmatic woman's eyes, his voice whispering like he was telling her a secret, "And I'd look after 'em, too, I'd have their backs like yous had mine. I hope I'll meet 'em someday."

With that, he returned to the embrace fully, closing his eyes as he savored it for as long as he could.

* * *

Shard had braced herself for hesitation. Fear. Even revulsion. Certainly not the unhindered exuberance with which he flung himself against her. Her arms closed around him in instinct as he clung to her, and she had to fight to stop the purr that welled in her throat. Instead, she rocked him gently, stroking his hair with a soft hand as he poured his dreams out to her.

Smiling as she held him, she allowed herself to rest for a moment in the light of his beautiful dream. "My children are indeed nice, and I love them very much. You are much like them, in a way." She laughed softly. "I think you would get along very well. I'm sure I could trust you with their keeping."

She didn't have the heart to go on and burst the fragile bubble of that dream. It could never happen in truth; the world would not understand. There would be no school for her children. No sharing a backyard with this odd contradiction of a boy, gruff and full of anger and yet with a heart as large as Michelangelo's. Her own heart ached a little at the thought of that; there was a desperation in his embrace that told her this was a boy who was not hugged nearly enough. For the briefest of moments, a protective instinct surged through her, and the absurd notion drifted through her mind that perhaps she might take him with her. But that was folly; the boy had yet a father, and she could never deprive another parent of his child. And she dared not think how he would react if he learned the truth of what she and her children were.

No. Were she to take him home, she would hug him every day to make up for that which he clearly lacked. As it was, she would have to make this one worth enough to take with him. So she continued to rock him, humming a soft lullaby, and let the gesture speak her gratitude and her affection.

In the end, it was a police helicopter that broke the moment. She pulled him closer as it passed overhead, shielding him from the searching light even as she turned her face deeper into shadow. Once the helicopter had passed, she eased her hold with a quiet sigh. "I should see you home, my little one. Perhaps on the way, you can show me the door this key unlocks?"

* * *

The biting cold of the air surrounding them seemed to be shut off as he was held, a cherished warmth tingling from his head to his toes as he was encased in the memories of embraces just like this one. He didn't know it was possible for anyone to hold him the way his mother used to, having believed that he would be without anything that could come close to it. It filled him with a new hope for the future, as well as a new understanding of the world. While it may appear to be dark and desolate, he now saw that there were good people within it, people just like his mom. Good people who would share their comfort and care with a complete stranger as this woman now did for him.

It reminded Casey that he couldn't let himself become angry or cold; it wasn't how his mother would have wanted him to turn out. He had to protect what his mother instilled in him, the heart that she crafted with her own. Maybe if he could do that, then good people would be drawn to him. Only the future would tell if it was possible.

The dreamy, foggy state of mind that the boy had been lulled into by the woman's gentle song was slowly pulled into one of alertness as the helicopter's blades chopped through the night, drawing his attention skyward. He watched the flickering red and blue lights of the metal bird through the gaps in the woman's shielding arms before returning his hazel gaze to the shadows veiling her features.

Giving a small smile and a nod, Casey begrudgingly slid out of the embrace and stood, though he subtly kept a small hand on the woman's knee to maintain contact. "Yeah, I'll show ya, it's dis door that opens up into the alley. Ya gotta kinda jiggle the handle when ya use the key, though, cuz it's an old door." Reaching out, he took one of the woman's hands, believing himself strong enough to help her stand up.

* * *

Shard knew she would have to let him go at some point, but it surprised her a little, how much it hurt to let him go. In such a short time, he had made himself feel so much like one of her own that it brought a lump to her throat. But she did not miss the hand that kept contact with her, and that brought a small smile back to her face; it was a gesture she recognized well. Michelangelo and Donatello in particular favoured it.

As he took her hand, her fingers curled lightly around his, and she let him believe he was doing most of the work as she flowed back to her feet. "Thank you," she said softly, pulling him close against her side as she guided him through the twining green labyrinth, that protective instinct still refusing to let go. "You cannot know how much this will mean to my family." Pausing at the edge of the building, she rested her hand lightly atop his head. "I can only hope that someday we can return the favour. Now then, we will be faster and less likely to be seen if I carry you. You need only tell me where to go."

But she paused before she reached for him. She may have been able to keep her face and most of her hands hidden by the scarf and abaya, but it was difficult to hide the near seven feet of her height, and her insecurity and self-doubt about her current form stilled her hand, waiting to gauge his reaction. "You musn't be afraid, however. I promise you shall be safe with me."

* * *

A smile of pride beamed on Casey's face as he was thanked for helping the woman up, even the smallest of good deeds enough to make him feel good about himself. Naturally falling in step with her as she brought him to her side and guided him through the rooftop garden, the back of his head was practically resting on his upper back as he stared straight up at the surprisingly tall figure. Being as small as he was, he was used to nearly getting nosebleeds from always having to look up at all the adults around him, but that didn't mean he didn't have a rough sense of depth perception in regards to different heights. This woman seemed almost unnaturally tall, and from the way she was moving earlier, high heels didn't seem like a likely explanation.

As though there was a magnet in the woman's hand, Casey instinctively leaned a bit of his weight against the side of her leg when she placed her hand atop his head; his way of unconsciously returning the touch. Letting out a small chuckle, he shook his head slightly when she voiced her wishes to return his favor someday, "Yous is a nice lady, you ain't gotta do nothin' for me. You already kinda did, throwin' that trash can lid, remember?"

The boy's eyebrows rose on his pale forehead when the woman announced that she'd be carrying him, and a rosy hue abruptly flushed across his face as he let out a giggle, "I ain't been carried since I was a baby! I might be too heavy, cuz I got so much muscle weight 'n stuff. But y'know, Luke Skywalker carries Yoda around, kinda like a baby, so I guess that'd be okay. Bonus for yous is dat I don't smell like Yoda. I mean, I don't think I do. I hope I don't." Grabbing a wad of his own hair, he sniffed at it a bit, his features scrunching up in contemplation.

Ignoring the stale smell of it, he returned his attention to the tall woman at his side, tilting his head a bit in curiosity when she seemed to be hesitant, and he cracked a shy smile, "It's okay, I don't smell that bad. Yous can pick me up." His smile grew at her reassurances of his safety, and he nodded in understanding, "Yous is safe wit' me, too." A bit hesitant himself, mostly out of bashfulness, Casey slowly reached his arms up to indicate his granted permission to be lifted up. "It's only a block from here, dat way. The red apartment wit' da yellow neon sign."

* * *

Shard chuckled softly, stroking his hair lightly as he sniffed at it. "It is all right, sweetheart, you smell just fine. And I think I shall manage. You are a bold, strong young man, but you are not so big as all that."

He reached for her then, and she smiled fondly as she scooped him into her arms, holding him close against her chest. Her heart went out to him once again at that. He was so small, and wiry, and he was the sort of boy who, like Michelangelo, needed to be cuddled often. It was a duty she would have happily undertaken, but alas, their worlds were too far apart. Already they were beginning to drift, their time together a mere brush past one another as their lives moved across the sea of time, and once she saw him home, she doubted she would see him again. She doubted she could let herself see him again, not sure whether she could allow herself to let him go a second time. Already, she longed to lick the top of his head as she would do for one of her own children… but that gesture, innocent as it was, would reveal her and ruin everything.

So instead, she held him closely and stepped up to the ledge. "Hold tight, my little one."

With that, she stepped forward and leaped into the darkness.

He was in no danger. She would sooner dash herself to pieces on the ground below than let him come to harm. But if raising four boys had taught her one thing, it was that they liked it when Kaasan went  _fast_. And so the route to the apartment with the yellow sign was somewhat longer than it could have been, filled with leaps, and tucks, and spins, and more than a little laughter as she raced along the rooftops, until at last she stood on the fire escape beneath the yellow sign and set him carefully back on his feet.

But she did not let him go. Not quite yet. She kept a hand on his shoulder, steadying and protective, as she watched him from the sheltering shadows beneath her scarf.

"Well then, it seems I have you home in one piece." Battling the tightness in her throat, she forced herself to smile instead; though she knew he could not see it, perhaps it would show in her voice. "Now promise me you will pick no more fights with large groups of children far older than you. I shall not always be around with a trash can lid handy."

* * *

Feeling some of his breath leave him with a sense of awe as he was lifted up in the tall woman's arms, Casey naturally wrapped his arms around her neck, brown eyes wide with giddiness as he looked around; it was like a whole new world up here! He hoped he'd be tall when he grew up, too! Turning his head, he hid his face in the warm folds of the woman's scarf, and for a moment believed he could fall into a deep sleep right then and there. That is, until she stepped off from the roof.

Opening his eyes and looking around to take in the sight of the city quickly passing by underfoot, the boy let out an unshackled bout of laughter, pure glee ringing in his voice. He'd never been on such a ride, never knew people could even move like this! This entire evening had been like a fleeting dream, every neglected niche of his wishes and desires being filled past the rim, a true sense of feeling alive and whole on every level giving him a new sense of hope for the future.

The future… but wait. Dream or not, this evening would only last for so long, and already its final moments of joy were dwindling away the closer they get to the red apartment. The red apartment… what an ugly façade, and what an ugly shade of rouge that colored it. He just might hate that color more than anything else. Some people thought of love when they saw red. Violence, that's what he saw. Violence and bitterness, despair. It was an awful color.

Realizing that he'd wasted the last few moments of their brisk run together with his darkening thoughts distracting him, Casey felt his heart sink a little further as his feet met the surface of the fire escape outside his window. Looking up at the enigmatic woman, he smiled as soon as heard her voice, the warm hand on his shoulder feeling like a lifeline to the dream. "I promise… 'n after what happened, those guys'll probably leave me alone, too. They know they ain't so tough, now."

Swallowing a lump in his throat, the boy's expression briefly faltered, a glaze of icy liquid blurring his vision as he stared longingly up into the shadows of the woman's hood. "So… So remember what I said, 'bout the key 'n the lock, hows ya gotta jiggle da handle for it ta work…"

Sniffing a little to keep his nose from running, the boy suddenly stepped closer and tightly embraced his rescuer around the waist, a small sound coming from him; little words that weren't quite loud enough to be understood. With that, he quickly turned away, his head lowered to hide his face from her now as he went to the window, propping it open and climbing halfway inside. He gave pause once he was sitting sideways on the windowpane, however, and looked over to her. He smiled one more time. "Thanks for throwin' that lid…" Turning away for the last time, he slid away into the dark room beyond the window, sitting back against the wall.

He let the events of the night churn over in his mind, feeling lingering prints of warmth on his head from where she touched him. It's a bittersweet pain that seized up in his chest. It made him smile, and it made him cry. Two things he'd really needed to do for a long time.

* * *

"I shall remember," she reassured him. "As I shall remember your kindness, dear heart." The sorrow on the young one's face as she set him down gave her pause, the tears welling in his eyes breaking her heart, and had he not stepped forward, she would have done so instead. She wrapped her arms firmly around him as he clung to her waist, a hand gently stroking his hair as his muffled little voice murmured against her.

She let him break the contact, and it took a will of iron not to run after him, snatch him up, and bear him back to the sewer where she and her children could banish the heartache from his expression. Had he not smiled at her, she might even have done it. But in the end, she merely raised a hand in silent farewell, watching for some time as he vanished through the window before she actually made her departure.

But just before she left to avail herself of her precious gift, she turned back one last time, and caught a flash of red at the periphery of her vision. A streak, barely seen and then gone, like a burst of lighting, and she smiled to herself. Perhaps the red string of fate bound their two families closer than she thought. Looking down at the key in her hand, her smile broadened, and she headed toward the door with a lighter heart.

Though her pride and her dignity would not allow her to take from the boy's father unless they were in particular need, she left little gifts behind when she did over the years. Small things, easily overlooked by a busy adult, that might be discovered by a young boy with a short attention span. Folded paper figures, toys found on scavenging runs, and once, in a year in which paper had been plentiful, an unsigned card for New Year's. For even as the years passed, and they found April, and they no longer had the need to avail themselves of the boy's generosity, the key kept a place of honour in the little box of treasures Shard kept in her room. For even after so many years, Shard still believed that the fates had intervened to cross their paths that day, and that she had not seen the last of that rough little boy with the shining heart.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

_~~To the lady who saved me:~~ _

_~~I'm not that great at writing intros for letters, or writing letters. Or writing in general. But I want to write one to you because~~ _

_To my hero:_

_It's been 9 years since the night you threw that trashcan lid, but I still remember it like it was my favorite movie or somethin. I got all the gifts and cards that you left for me in the back of the store all these years, I keep all the paper cranes in a jar. Isn't it some kinda thing to collect a whole bunch of those? Anyways._

_~~I'm writing this letter cuzI don't know why I'm~~ I want you to know somethin. You did a lot more for me than save _ _~~my ass~~  _ _my butt from those older kids. I was in a bad place for a long time, and_ ~~sometimes~~ _~~I~~ go back to it a lot. But then I remember you, and I remember how kind you was to me. The fact that you kept leaving me all those gifts for me for such a long time—I don't know what to write about that. Words aren't my strong point._

_What I want you to know is that you saved me in a lot of ways. I might've turned out bad if it wasn't for you. Maybe I am bad, but I try to be kind. It's hard but I wanna be better_

_cuz of_ _you_

_you done a lot for me. i don't know if i even told you my name_

_it's casey_

_i hope this letter wont weird you out, but i been wanting to write it for a long time._

_you really mean a lot to me, it's okay that we aint seen each other, i still remember you. with all these paper cranes, i know you remember me too_

_Love,_

_Casey Jones_

_—_

Casey stared down at the letter, chewing on his lip nervously as he took note of the fact that the harder it was to write something for him, the worse his grammar and penmanship became, apparently. He looked to the shelf of expired canned goods in the back room of the store. Lifting up a can of peaches, he slipped the note beneath it, hoping that it wouldn't be found by anyone besides who it was intended for. Maybe he hoped even she wouldn't find it. He just needed to write it down. Turning, he quickly left the store, locking it up for the night before heading home with his hands tightly stuffed into his pockets.

* * *

It was quiet in the house, the children long since settled into their beds, but a lantern burned in Shard's room, and by its light, her weary green eyes read over the letter once more. The smell of peaches clung to the letter still despite her attempts to clean it — the leak from the expired can had all but obliterated the latter part of the letter.

But she still had more than enough.

Her vision blurred as she read, and she reached up to wipe the tears away before she held the letter to her heart. "You could never be bad, my fierce baby," she whispered into the dark. "Rough or misguided perhaps, but never bad. Not you."

Approaching the shelf where she kept her most precious possessions, she pulled a small wooden box from it. Folding the letter, she placed it within the box, weighting it down with a small key. No longer in use, but still precious to her, even after all these years.

"Someday," she whispered, a promise and a prayer, as she closed the box and extinguished the lantern.

[A Shard of Time](http://radiojane.tumblr.com/post/72995655436/a-few-panels-based-on-an-rp-i-had-with-fantasia-i) by radio-jane


	15. Just in Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set just after the Season 2 finale.

April's jaw cracked from the force of her yawn as she stumbled into the kitchen, lured by the smell of coffee. Normally, she was more of a tea drinker, thanks to a year and change of being indoctrinated to it by Master Shard—

Her train of thought broke off, doing that sideways skitter it did whenever her thoughts had strayed too close to places too dark for her to handle right now. Master Shard… Irma… Dad.

April's eyes stung, but she told herself it was just the fact that her contacts were getting old. She needed new ones, but since she'd left her glasses behind when they'd fled the city, she'd have to make do for now with the cleaning solution they'd bought from the drugstore on the edge of town. Rubbing her eyes, she leaned against the doorframe, watching Casey carefully pour some of the coffee into a thermos.

He smiled as he caught sight of her, the kind of brittle, fleeting smile they'd all been wearing lately when they'd found something, anything, to ease the mood. "Hey, Red. You look better. Did the nap help?"

"A bit," she said. "My head still feels like it's been split open, but now at least it's been put back together and held shut with some masking tape and bits of string."

"Makes sense," he said, reaching into the cupboard overhead for a mug. He started to pull one down, but as he caught sight of the "#1 Dad!" in shaky, childish handwriting on the side, he carefully put it back at the back of the cupboard and grabbed an old Space Heroes mug instead. "Your head's all tuned to Kraang frequency, and there've gotta be a lot of Kraang waves flying around right now."

April blinked, cobwebs slowly starting to clear. "You're… you're probably right."

Casey snorted as he poured coffee into the mug and started adding milk and far too much sugar. "Don't sound so surprised, April."

"No, no, it's not that," she said, rubbing her temples. "I just… I'd wondered why the last time they tried this, they needed me strapped into a machine, and how they managed to do it when I'm… well, here." She looked up at him. "Maybe since the last time they had me… they figured out how to… to…."

"Use the wifi?" He smirked at her expression. "Hey, Donnie's not the only smart one here." He walked over and pressed the mug into her hands.

April shivered as she wrapped her hands around it and took a sip. It was somehow both incredibly bitter and tooth-achingly sweet, and it was exactly what she needed right now. "I don't know how I feel about the thought of Kraang inside my head."

"Maybe you can get Donnie to make you a tinfoil hat," Casey offered, dumping half a jar of sugar into the thermos and jamming the lid on.

April's brow furrowed. "Going somewhere?" She glanced around the empty kitchen, shivering again despite herself. "Where is everybody, anyway?"

"Raph needed to go blow off some steam," Casey said, cramming a few packages of beef jerky into his pockets. "I'm gonna go make sure he doesn't terrorize the neighbours. And so that he has someone to fight if he needs it." He picked up the oversized, slightly damaged flannel shirt he'd picked up from the discount rack at the hardware store in town and tugged it on over his sweatshirt. The snow had stopped, but the chill in the air remained. "Donnie's still with Leo, and getting close to needing a refill, so you may want to look in on him—" he waggled the coffeepot meaningfully before sticking it back on the warming plate. "And Mikey took off this morning. Said something about making sure we've 'got everything.'" Shrugging, he added apologetically, "he might have gotten into the coffee before we could stop him."

"Casey!"

"I know, I know. That was a while ago, though. With any luck, he'll have worked it off by the time he gets back."

Picking up the thermos, he gave her a quick hug before heading toward the door. But he paused, his hand on the knob, and looked back. "You gonna be okay?"

She nodded and saluted him with her coffee. Smiling back at her, he slipped out the door.

April ambled over toward the fridge, peering inside, but her stomach quickly disabused her of the notion of anything that wasn't coffee. Frowning, she leaned back against the counter and sipped at her drink, letting the warmth run through her. It didn't completely clear out the lump of ice in the pit of her stomach, but it helped.

Her thoughts had only just begun to drift toward Mikey before the turtle in question burst through the door. She took one look at him, and the hand that wasn't holding the coffee shot toward him in an imperious point. " _Out!_ "

Mikey stopped in shock, staring at her. "But—"

"We spent  _three hours_ cleaning this place yesterday!" She gestured at his feet, which were absolutely caked in mud. "Out!"

Mikey groaned, but complied. Grumbling under her breath, April set her mug on the counter and followed, shooing him around to the side of the house so she could hose him down, counting her blessings that the water hadn't frozen in the hose yet.

Once he was clean, she let him back in, and took a fortifying gulp of her now-tepid coffee. "Where were you?"

"Getting supplies!" Beaming, he reached for something he'd left by the door, and April found herself staring in bemusement at a purple plastic bucket dotted with daisy stickers. He handed it to her with a flourish, and she stared inside, still not comprehending.

"You were in the pond… catching minnows?"

"Yeah," he said. "Best way to catch 'em. Just stand there and let 'em come to you." His hand dipped into the bucket, almost faster than she could follow, and emerged holding a wriggling fish by the tail. With a flick of his wrist, he whacked it against the counter, and it lay still.

"Mikey!" April gasped.

"What?" he said, his guileless blue eyes staring up at her. "It's the fastest way. This way they don't feel anything." Reaching into the drawer beneath the counter, he pulled out a toothpick and stuck it into the minnow.

She watched him repeat the procedure for all six fish in the bucket. Then he patted them dry, arranged them neatly on a small tray, and carried them over to the fridge.

Ice Cream Kitty mewed plaintively as Mikey opened the freezer door, and he laughed, reaching in to scratch her behind the ears. "I know," he said. "It's not home. But you'll get used to it!" Licking his finger, he held out the tray. "Here. You get these nice and cold, okay?"

The cat mewed again, grabbing the tray from Mikey and curling around it with a bubbling, custardy purr. And suddenly, April understood. Fishsicles didn't exactly come on the grocery store shelves.

His expression as he closed the door and turned back to her told her clearly that he knew she'd figured it out. "I thought we should have some handy," he said quietly, with a little shrug. "You know…. just in case."

April reached out and set her mug down on the counter. Two steps later, her arms were around Mikey, and he clung to her in return, burying his face against her as she gently stroked his head. She'd forgotten that she wasn't the only one being held together by bits of tape and string. But somehow, surely, the six of them would find a way to hold each other together.

Just in case.


	16. Seeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something that's been brewing in my head since season one, and recent episodes just cemented where and how it all comes out. This happens just after Deadly Venom, and a very similar conversation happens with Splinter in Falling (I'm not going to write it out, but it should be pretty easy to imagine how it went down). It also references a story that happened in roleplay with Donatallo on tumblr that is canonical to the Shard!verse

The dark earth sank deep beneath her claws as Shard eased the seedling back into place. Sitting back on her heels with a quiet sigh, she cast her gaze around the garden she had long ago claimed as her own. It had suffered in the months under Kraang occupation, and the artists who had built it had not returned to tend it in the meantime. She hoped it was merely fear that kep them away, and not a darker reason. Regardless, until they made their way back here, the keeping of it fell to her alone, for her sons had never had much interest in her refuge, and April’s spare moments were given over to Kirby at the moment. Not that Shard would ever begrudge either of them that solace.

Her gaze came to rest on the pond next to the flowerbed on which she worked. She had cleared enough of the weeds from the waters that she could see her reflection once more, but for a moment, she saw herself reflected not in the depths of the pond, but in glassy, serpentine eyes that gazed into her soul without a flicker of recognition.

Closing her eyes, she turned her head sharply away as the familiar flare of pain stabbed at her heart. _Oh, Miwa. My poor child. What has that monster done to you?_

Guilt chased on the heels of the thought. What was she doing, playing in the dirt while her own daughter languished in the hands of a madman? She ought to charge into that chapel he profaned with his presence and tear down the walls, brick by brick, until she had her daughter safe in her arms once more…

Ah. But it was good to dream.

With a final pat for her struggling seedling, Shard brushed the dirt from her hands and reached for the staff leaning up against the tree. As her hands wrapped around the familiar angles of the green stone, Shard became aware that she was no longer alone. Levering herself to her feet and letting the staff take her weight, she shook her head as muffled curses filled the air. Such language! But then, the owner of that voice, beloved as he was, had never dealt well with intellectual frustration, and given the section of the garden from which the angry words drifted, she could hazard a guess as to their cause. Shifting her grip on the staff, she set out to see if she could ease at least some of the frustration.

* * *

Donnie tossed another handful of blackened, useless leaves aside. It figured. He should have known that even this place hadn’t been safe from the Kraang. But then, he didn’t exactly spend a lot of time here; he could be forgiven for forgetting about it. Not everyone in the family had that excuse. Scowling, he dug deeper into the herbs that his mother had cultivated for creating poisons and their antidotes. That was another thing he should have known. They’d all been aware that poisons were a skillset traditionally kept by the women in his mother’s family. Why hadn’t it ever occurred to him that her daughter would follow in Master Shard’s footsteps? Letting out another low curse, he tossed another clump of useless greenery aside. Compost was all it was good for now.

“Donatello?”

“ _Gyah!_ ” Donnie leaped to his feet, his heart slamming against his plastron as he whirled to face his mother. The world spun as he did so, and he drew his bo, using it to steady himself until the dizziness subsided. “Sensei, don’t _do_ that!”

He hadn’t counted on her being here. Glancing back at the ruined herb garden, he felt his resolve falter a little before he steeled it. He had no reason to feel guilty. If his mother was going to keep secrets this important, it was up to him as the designated doctor in the family to figure things out for himself.

He just wished she wasn’t quite so _tall_.

Shard folded her hands over her staff as she tilted her head to look at him, ignoring his embarrassing outburst. “You should be resting, my son.”

“Yeah, well. Sleep wasn’t really happening for me. I thought I’d do something useful and try to put together an antivenom.” Annoyance flared through him and he folded his arms defensively, unable to meet her eyes. He couldn’t overlook the fact that the reason Shard thought he should be resting was the residual venom that his wayward sister had dumped into his system.  “There’s probably still enough of the stuff in my bloodstream to isolate and work with.”

Shard’s ear twitched, but she didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she gave a sad shake of her head and gestured at the ruined plants behind him. “I am afraid that you will find little of help here. My garden did not fare well during the invasion.”

“Yeah, Sensei, I can _see_ that. I _am_ a genius, remember?” He didn’t mean to snap at her, truly, but now that he’d had time to actually think about the whole thing, he was just so angry. That science had failed him. That he hadn’t even _heard_ of Shard’s cure -- which had zero grounding in science and no business working at all, thank you very much -- until she whipped it out to show Leo. His anger flared again, and the words tumbled from him before he could think. “But if we get bit out there in the middle of a fight, we need something that works fast. We can’t all hide in the sewers when the going gets tough and rely on some mystical stuff to save us.”

“Donatello!” Shard gasped, and he even regretted it a little. But he couldn’t let it go. Not now that it was out.

“I just don’t get it, Sensei,” he insisted, and the slightest note of pleading crept into his voice. “All those times I was -- _we_ were hurt. Professor Rockwell, and Slash, and the Shredder--” he swallowed, hard. “We were hurt so badly, and you had this miracle cure that could have saved us at any time, but you just let us suffer, and then you used it on _yourself,_ and then you don’t even teach all of us, just Leo, and sometimes I wonder if you even _like_ me--”

In his ire, he finally looked back at her face, and the rest of the words died in his throat at the horror he saw there. He’d crossed a line, and he knew it. Even as he’d spoken those last words, he knew they rang false. It had been over a decade ago now, but he still remembered the look on her face when she’d come after him when he’d run away during one of his tantrums, only to run into an alligator someone had flushed into the sewers years before. Like Leatherhead’s bigger, meaner cousin, the thing had nearly crushed him trying to get him out of his shell. And Shard, on finding him, had flung herself at the monster without any thought for herself, screaming the whole time for him to run. He remembered that. He did. Remembered the warmth as she had held him afterward, and the promise of eternal safety in his mother’s loving arms.

He just didn’t know when all that had changed.

“Oh, Donatello,” she said, and he winced. He could have stood against anger or frustration, but she just sounded…. tired. “I have done you wrong indeed if you truly believe that of me.”

“I--I don’t, Sensei,” he admitted, toying with his fingers as he looked up at her, chagrined. “Not really. I just… I don’t understand.”

Shard sank to her knees, the facets of her staff gleaming in the low light as she set it across her knees. Automatically, Donnie followed suit, years of training and muscle memory responding before conscious thought. “As I told your brother,” she said, “the technique is a difficult one. It takes time to learn, and much practice, and it is easier to learn on onesself, when one can feel the effects of it, than on another. And,” she continued, forestalling Donnie’s next outburst, “I could not even begin to learn before the Kraang invasion.”

His mouth closed, and he tilted his head to regard her. “Why not?”

She looked at him, and something in her face sent uneasy stirrings through the pit of his stomach. “I mentioned this too, though perhaps the fault is mine. Perhaps I did not phrase it correctly, as some part of me did not truly wish you to understand. It is a technique that has the power to bring someone back from the brink of death, yes. Which is why it can only be learned by a master who has also spent a great amount of time standing at that precipice. Usually, more than once.”

Donnie’s eyes widened in sudden understanding as memories flashed before him. Shard clinging to him, weakened by Karai’s poison. Time seeming to slow as Leo’s battered body smashed through April’s window. Shard falling beneath the brutal assault of Slash’s fists. The dual bites on Leo’s arms where he’d led himself get triple the dose of venom before he’d tried the mantra on himself.

The Shredder, dangling his mother’s limp body over the swirling vortex of the water she so desperately feared, and tossing her in like so much garbage. Donnie’s own voice, screaming as she vanished beneath the surface…

...Tang Shen, limp in their arms as they carried her from the inferno, all of them praying that they had not been too late.

“Sensei,” Donnie breathed, his voice gone raw as his throat tightened.

Shard raised a hand to rest against his cheek, and Donnie closed his eyes at the familiar comfort of the soft fur against his scales. “Did you truly think I do not care for you, my son?”

“I didn’t know what to think.” His voice was soft, hoarse, but Shard needed no help to understand him. “All those times… and you keep letting us go out to fight alone.” He opened his eyes again, silently pleading for answers as his gaze swept hers. “You’re so much stronger than us, Sensei. Why won’t you help us?”

Shard’s hand fell away from his face, leaving cold in its wake. She folded her hands in her lap, and her tail curled around her knees, the tip twitching a little as she sighed. “First, I must ask you something. How long do turtles live?”

Donnie blinked at the sudden change in topic, but his brain was already supplying the answer. “Well, it depends on the species. Common pet store turtles often live between thirty to fifty years, though some of the larger species of chelonian have had life expectancies that span centuries.”

“And,” Shard continued, “what is the lifespan of an average alley cat?”

“With proper care and medical treatment, around sixteen years,” Donnie answered, growing frustrated again. “Sensei, I--”

“I have only one more question,” she said, gentle but firm, and Donnie held his tongue. “How long ago did I become as you see me now?”

“Sixteen years,” Donnie said, “but I--”

Cold, sick dread swamped him, and his protests died unvoiced as his gaze snapped to his mother. A sad smile crossed her face, and she inclined her head toward him. “There. My Clever Baby begins to understand.”

“But…” Donnie sputtered, outright denial screaming through his mind as he looked at her. She had always had white in her fur, but had she always had so much? He couldn’t remember. _Why_ couldn’t he remember? “Sensei, you’re not _old_. You’re in perfect health. You kick our tails all the time in the dojo. You don’t even have the pains that typically come with old--” His voice faltered again as he took in her expression, and the way her hands tightened on her staff. His gaze lingered on it, his traitorous mind whispering diagnoses that couldn’t possibly be true. “I thought…” he said quietly. “I thought it was just an affectation. A way to hide your sword.”

“It was, at first,” she said, smiling a little. “When I was younger and far more proud. It has many uses, as it turns out.”

Donnie stared at her, trying to remember a time he’d seen her go more than a day without the staff, and failing. “How long?”

“Mmm,” she mused, tapping a thoughtful finger against her chin. “Ten years, give or take. It comes and it goes, but the bad days come more often of late.”

“I didn’t know,” he breathed.

“You were not meant to. I am a kunoichi, and very good at hiding what I feel, when I wish.” She reached out a hand to cover his, and he twisted his hands to catch hers, clinging tightly as she favoured him with a sad laugh. “Oh, Donatello. This is not something I wished to burden you with for a long time. But I suppose, without knowing, certain things would have been difficult for you to understand.” Her hand tightened on his, and she reached out with the other to gently stroke his head. “If I could, I would be with you every time you are in danger. But it has been clear for some time that the path this family walks will never be an easy one. I could not let you learn to fight while reliant on me. My skills have not been dependable for some time now; if my body were to betray me in the middle of a fight…” Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, an old, familiar gesture. “I could not bear it if you fell because I had not let you learn to fly. And no fledgling can do so while on the back of his mother. But I swear to you, my son, for as long as I am able, I will still be there to catch you. On this, you have my word.”

She framed it so prettily that it would have been easy to miss the implications of her speech. But Donnie was a scientist, and good at reading between the lines, though he was not ready to accept what he was reading. “No. No, no, no. You’re not… you can’t…” An idea flared into being, and he gasped, grasping tightly to her hands. “The retromutagen! I’ll just make some more and change you back. You can’t be _that_ old.”

He must have phrased it wrong, for Shard gave an indelicate snort of laughter, but there was no anger in her as she shook her head. “And what if the woman in me has aged at the rate of the feline? What would she look like, if you changed me back? The cat, at least, gives me some advantage. I would be no help to you at all as an aged woman, all bent and wrinkled as old paper.” She patted his hand. “No, I have thought about it a great deal since you first proposed the idea, but I stand by what I said. I am content with the life I have built with you, and there is some time in me yet. I may not be able to go with you on every mission, and thought it pains me to admit it, I will doubtless have to send you into danger again. So I shall keep what strength I still have, and use it when I can to help you.”

“But Sensei,” Donnie pleaded, desperately. “I don’t want you to… to…”

“I know,” she soothed, stroking his head. “And I have no intention of going anywhere just yet, my love.”

Stubbornly, he shook his head. “It may not be that you’re aging in tandem with your feline DNA. Maybe it’s just that the cat you mutated with had a genetic defect. Now that I know, I can come up with some treatments for you. We could try a course of NSAIDs-- no, wait, not those, not if you want to use your kidneys -- but I’ll find something that works, and some physiotherapy exercises could be just the thing to--” He raised his head, his brow furrowing crossly. “Sensei, you should have said something. We could have tried this years ago.”

“I know,” she said again. Donnie has been moving closer as they spoke, and he was close enough now to feel her tail swishing against his knees. “But truly, I did not wish to burden you further. You have enough weight on your young shoulders as it is.” She sighed. “I can only plead ignorance. I had no one to guide me in the raising of you, and though I have done the best I could, I know I have made mistakes. But I would appreciate your help in this, if you are willing to give it.” She freed her hands from his and set her staff aside so that she could adopt a more formal posture. “Will you forgive the mistakes I have made?”

He had only one answer to give. But when, a moment later, he was in her arms, his hands knotting in the fabric of her houmongi as she held him, he set his jaw in outright rejection. He understood why she had made the decisions she had, even if he didn’t agree with them. But he would _not_ let her suspicions be true. He just wouldn’t. He was one of the greatest scientists on Earth -- heck, in the multiverse! -- and if he couldn’t use his skills to give his mother the natural lifespan that she’d been born to, then what good were they? He’d figure something out. He always did.

“ _Ai yah_ ,” Shard breathed, even as her hand stroked against his shell. “It is very late, sweetheart. Would you like to go home?”

Reluctantly, he let go, and ignored her amusement as he solicitously helped her to her feet and fetched her staff for her. And if he kept a hand on her arm the entire way back home, they were both content to accept the polite fiction that he was just being a dutiful son.

* * *

“Yame!” Shard called, banging her staff against the ground as Michelangelo cast a guilty look over his shoulder at her. “Michelangelo, you know better! Arms  _locked_ this time and try again!”

“ _Hai,_ Sensei,” Michelangelo groaned, moving opposite April to begin the exercise again. But despite the theatrics, he did keep his arms locked this time. Nodding in satisfaction, she checked in on Raphael and Leonardo, but she had little to correct. Her two eldest flowed through the forms with beautiful, familiar precision. Raphael had gained a great deal of control during his time in Northampton, and it left her with little to do in these sessions.

“Sensei.” Donatello materialized at her elbow, pressing a steaming cup into her hands. “I thought you might like some tea.”

Casting him a pained glance, she tried not to inhale too much of the smell coming from the cup. “Again?”

The stubborn set of his jaw was becoming distressingly familiar. “I thought you might like this new blend I made up,” he said tightly. “I think it can steep _much longer_ than the last one.”

Sighing, Shard brought the cup to her mouth and sipped delicately. Poor Donatello. He was never going to forgive her for dumping the last batch of medicine into the tree. But as awful as the stuff was, she had to admit, it was making a difference. Her joints were moving much more easily these days, and she no longer woke in pain. Donatello, for his part, said nothing to his siblings about it. Just quietly brought her this or that, and asked her questions about how she felt, and hummed thoughtfully as he scribbled into a notebook that he locked away in a drawer. It was difficult to find the words to express her gratitude for his confidentiality, though from the look he gave her when she left a box of onigiri on his desk as he worked long into the night, she thought he understood well enough.

Satisfied that the tea wasn’t going anywhere but into her, Donatello gave her a bright smile and moved off to where Casey leaned against the wall, berating him soundly until he put away the game he was playing on his phone and rose to spar. Silently, Shard drank the medicine Donatello had given her and watched her children work, and pride swelled within her until her heart ached with the strength of it.

She had planted the seeds well in her children, and they had found fertile ground in which to flourish. Now, as she stood in the midst of them, she could see the shapes into which they were growing. When they at last reached their full potential -- ah, but it would be glorious. And if her second-youngest son had anything to say about it, she would live to see her garden bloom, and well after, guiding them as they planted new seeds of their own.

But that would not be for some time yet, and for now, they still had need of their mother. A mother who now, thanks to Donatello’s efforts, could afford to keep up with her children.

Smiling, she rapped her staff against the floor and went back to work.

 


	17. Permission to Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fluff from the turtles' childhood with Shard, because it's been that kind of week. They're about five in this.

Shard tugged the scarf down from her head as she at last reached the safety of home. Her hand fell to the satchel at her side, reassuring herself that it was still there, and she gazed down at it with pride. She had feared returning home empty-handed this night, but as she had been ready to give up and head home, the sound of an arguing couple outside of a Japanese restaurant had caught her attention. Peering from the shadows of the alley, she had watched in delight as the couple declared that they never wished to see one another again, and the gentleman hurled the bag he was carrying into the trash.

Retrieving the contents proved no small feat, even at so late an hour, and some of the containers had broken open, their contents lost to the unmentionable refuse, but when she returned to the shelter of the sewers and was able to examine what remained in the bag, she discovered that the lidded containers she rescued held rice, and fish, and salad. There would be cucumber for her hungry little kappa tonight.

But as she moved from the dark of the tunnels into the warm light of home, slipping the rain-dampened abaya from her shoulders lest the moisture reach her fur, she stilled. Hanging the abaya over one of the turnstiles to dry, she slipped quietly past them, her whiskers twitching warily. Ah, there it was again. The telltale giggle that meant no good was afoot.

Silently, Shard ghosted across the floor, carefully easing aside the curtain over the kitchen door. Her little ones stood, perched atop one another’s shoulders in a teetering tower as they strained to reach the top of the fridge where she kept the lone, cherished box of stale cookies reserved for special occasions.

“Shhh,” came the sharply-whispered caution from the tower. “We gotta be quick, before Sensei--”

“Before I what?” Shard asked.

Startled cries filled the air as the tower wobbled and fell, breaking into its constituent parts, each child looking up at her with various expressions of guilt and chagrin. Her amusement faded, however, as she did a quick count of her babies and came up one short. Pushing fully into the kitchen, she folded her hands over her staff and glared down upon them as they righted themselves. “Where is Michelangelo?”

Wary glances flickered between the three before Leonardo ventured, timidly, “Uhhh, we’re not sure.”

“He’s definitely not sulking in a corner because he’s a big baby,” Raphael added a little too eagerly, followed by a grunt as Donatello’s elbow slammed into his side. Raphael turned to glare at his brother. “ _What?_ ”

The crack of Shard’s staff against the floor silenced the brewing outburst, returning their attention to her. “Enough!” She tugged the satchel off her shoulder and dropped it on the table, well aware of the curious looks that followed it. “When I go out to find food, I trust you four to care for each other and our home until I return. Not to lose your brother and steal what you know is only supposed to be a sometimes-food!”

Guilty little faces stared up at her, their silence a condemnation of their actions. “ _Ai yah_ ,” Shard muttered. “Squats. Ten times around the dojo. Now!” Pointing with her staff, she eyed her eldest. “Leonardo, you will make sure that all of you complete this task.”

“Hai, Sensei!” he chirped, brightening with the gift of responsibility.

 _“Hai, Sensei_ ,” Raphael mimicked as they slunk past, under his breath as though he did not mean for her to hear. He let out a yelp as her staff connected with his shell. Not nearly hard enough to hurt -- the shell was marvellous protection and it took far worse just in everyday play -- but it was enough to let him know that his mother was all-seeing and missed _nothing_. The three scampered off at a run, and Shard sighed as she followed them. Getting dressed and preparing dinner would have to wait. Though she trusted he had not gone far, she would not rest easy until she found her missing child.

It was her nose that at last led her to him, a good ten minutes later. He had hauled off the grate covering a drainage pipe near the back of the house, and she eyed it with some bemusement as she approached the hole it had once covered. The the casual, careless display of strength was both charming and a little frightening for a five-year-old. The worries she and Yoshi had once had about baby gates for Miwa seemed almost quaint in comparison now.

Her ears twitched at the sound of miserable sniffling, and she knelt at the dark mouth of the pipe. “Now where on Earth is my Happy Baby?” she called softly.

“I’M NOT HAPPY!”  The explosive response reverberated against the metal walls of the pipe, and as her eyes adjusted to the gloom within, she could see that the echoing outburst had startled even the pipe’s tiny occupant.

Schooling herself so that the only outward sign of her shock was the flattening of her ears against her head, she folded her hands in her lap and kept her voice calm and reasoned. “Yes, I can see that. What I cannot see is why.”

Chubby little arms folded across a tiny armoured chest. “Because I’m dumb.”

“Gracious,” Shard said. “Who told you such a thing? Was it Raphael? It was Raphael, wasn’t it?”

The lines of anger seemed grossly out of place on that beloved face. Her words tempted the beginnings of a smile at the corners of his mouth a little before they turned down again with force, and he shook his head.

“No?” Shard tapped a finger against her chin. “Then who?”

“They didn’t _say_ it,” he snapped.

Shard inclined her head, her tail curling around her knees. “No? Then why do you call yourself dumb?”

A harsh, frustrated sound escaped him, as he curled more tightly into the pipe, his head drawing partway into his shell as he glanced at her over the rim of his plastron. “Why are they better at everything than me?”

“They are not,” Shard said.

“Are too!”

With a weary sigh, Shard sat back on her heels. “Michelangelo. Will you come out here, please?”

She watched the urge to refuse play across his face, and waited patiently until he finally complied, crawling slowly out of the pipe on hands and knees. He paused, uncertain, as Shard spread her arms, but only for a moment. The angry pout still firmly on his face, he crawled across the remaining floor between them and into her lap. Small fingers buried themselves in her fur, latching on fast as he rested his scowling face against her, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Sweetheart,” she said, folding her arms around him. “Why do you think your brothers are better at everything?”

“‘Cause they said so,” he muttered.

“Ah,” she said. “And of all the people living in this house, who do you think is wisest? Your brothers, or me?”

“You.” Michelangelo rolled his eyes. “Duh.”

“Then why,” she said, “if I say your brothers are _not_  better at everything, do you believe them over me?”

At last, those blue eyes lifted to meet hers, the anger in them giving way to confusion. “But,” he protested, “I can’t remember all the katas, or tie knots right, or do push ups without falling down.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Shard said. “Because…”

“Because I don’t focus.” It was a criticism he heard often enough to memorize, even if he had yet to do anything about it. The scowl tugged his mouth down again, and he flopped back against her.

“Yes. They are better at those things _now_ , but that does not mean it will always be so.” Her tail curled around him, tickling at his knees and making him fidget, though he still refused to smile. “And it does not mean that they are better at _everything._ There are some things that you do far better than any of your brothers.”

He twitched in her arms, raising his head to blink up at her. “Like what?”

Her heart ached a little as she raised a hand, wiping the tears from his cheeks until the fur on her hands was damp with them. He was so innocent, her little boy. They all were, really, but there was such an openness, such a _trust_ in Michelangelo. Were she to offer him words of reassurance, he would accept them wholly and utterly. A selfish part of her wanted nothing more than to hold him close and never let go, never release him into the world, for she knew there were those out there that would exploit that trust if they were to see it in him, and use it for harm. She wanted him to stay like this, always, innocent and loving and ready to believe in the good in the world. Yet she suspected, too, that there were still hidden depths to her youngest child. One day, when he at last found that focus, anyone who sought to abuse his trust would sorely, deeply regret it. And she selfishly wanted to spare him from that, too.

But there would be many years until that day arrived, and her little one needed her now. She nodded solemnly, rocking him gently until one of his hands freed itself from her fur in order to stroke her tail.

“You are absolutely the best dancer in the house,” she said, tapping him on the nose. “And the best at remembering all the words to our songs.”

He sniffed softly, resting his cheek against her chest. “I like singing.”

“I know,” she said. “And you are the best at figuring out which foods will go well together. And do you know what else you are best at?”

“What?” he asked.

“Flying,” she answered.

He snorted. “You mean jumping.”

“I know what I mean,” she said. Seizing him around the waist, she tossed him into the air, catching a glimpse of his frozen, startled face before he broke into a wild peal of laughter.

He gasped as he dropped back into her hands, his little feet kicking at the air. “Again, Sensei!”

And so she obliged him, sending him ever higher as he shrieked with uncontrolled laughter, drawing an answering grin from her. There might be great trials in his future, it was true, but for now, there was nothing so terrible that a few moments of breathlessly defying gravity could not conquer. Again, and again, he flew, and each toss lifted her spirits until she felt that she might float away. Only then did her baby come to rest, breathless, and collapsed against her. Her arms trembled with exertion as they around him and drew him close, and a contented purr began to rumble in her chest.

“Better?” she asked.

He was silent for a moment. The scowl had not returned to his face, but it had not been replaced by his usual sunny disposition either. He looked up at her, distress and guilt writ across his features, which confused her until he spoke. “Better, I guess,” he said quietly. “But I’m still not happy.” He looked away, tears beginning to well in his eyes again. “I’m sorry, Sensei.”

Finally, she understood, and she loved him so much in that moment that it hurt. “Michelangelo,” she said, gently chiding, as she stroked a hand over his head. “You do not need to be happy all the time.”

His lip quivered a little as his hands knotted into her fur again. “But I’m your Happy Baby.”

“You are.” Her hand moved to his shell, fingers tracing the lines of his scutes until he burrowed further against her, craving the familiar comfort of that touch. “But that does not mean you are not allowed to feel sad sometimes, too. You will be my Happy Baby even if you are angry, or frightened, or even sad.”

The tiny, muffled voice drifted from where his head was buried in the white fur at her chest. “I will?”

“You will. Always. If you need to be sad, you be sad as much as you want. I will be here, and I will listen, until you are happy again.”

“I…” soft breath, warm against her, ruffled her fur as he let out a long sigh of desperate relief. “Okay.”

“There’s my Happy Baby,” she whispered. Then, she bent her head, and began to cover his own with kisses.

He yelped, giggling as he held up a hand, fruitlessly attempting to stop her rasping tongue and getting feline kisses all over his fingers instead. “Ewwww! Mummy, no!” he gasped between giggles. “Grooooss!” But, his I’m-too-big-for-kisses protest dutifully asserted, he dropped his hand to cling to her, and she licked at his head until his hiccuping laughter banished the last of his tears. Satisfied, she held him close and savoured the sound of his deep, contented sigh.

“Sensei?” came the tentative question some time later.

“Mmm?”

“Why are you naked?”

She snorted, easing her hold on him enough that she could look down into the curious, upturned face. “Because it was raining, and I needed to find my baby before I could change into something dry.”

“Oh,” he said, patting her fur. “Can I help you?”

Shard nodded, letting him slide from her lap. “You may. And then perhaps you can help me get dinner ready for you and your brothers.” She flowed to her feet and took his outstretched hand, shortening her stride to keep pace with his eagerly padding feet, and fielded his excited questions as she told him what she had found.

“Can we make onigiri?”

“Yes.”

“Can I put the fish in it?”

“Yes.”

“Can I do one with cucumbers?”

“Yes.”

“Can I put the mouth-hurty stuff in Raph’s?”

“You mean wasabi?”

“Yeah! That stuff! Can I?”

“No.”

“Can I put worms in it?”

“Yes.”

“And algae?”

“Yes.”

“How ‘bout a cockroach?”

“No.”

“Awww, but--”

“ _No._ ”

Some time later, freshly dressed and without a trace of damp, she stood in the kitchen following Michelangelo’s instructions with good humour as he worked on the onigiri with fierce concentration. His brothers drifted in shortly after, groaning a little from their punishment, and she watched with no small amount of wonder as each went about making a silent apology in his own way. Leonardo clambered up to the counter to help Michelangelo cut the fish smaller. Raphael followed close on his brother’s heels, plucking the onigiri that Michelangelo was struggling to form out of his hands and used his greater strength to press them into submission. Donatello pushed a stool up to the counter, cleaning up around them as he organized the ingredients into neat little rows.

The last cautiously approached after he had finished his ingredient-sorting and pressed against her, wrapping his arms around her knees. Smiling, her hand drifted down to stroke his head in mute forgiveness.

They were so precious. Like all children, they had the capacity to be cruel and capricious, but there was great kindness and compassion in them, as well. There had been no way of knowing, when she had encountered those strange beings in the alley and been forever altered, that her little turtles would become so. No way of knowing that they would be _children_ , possessed of all the rich and complex emotions of any human child. No way of knowing the challenges she would face in the raising of them. No way of knowing how much she would come to cherish each and every one of her little boys.

There had indeed been challenges -- bumps in the road, and days like this in which they needed permission to cry. But there had never, not once in the days since Leonardo had uttered that fateful word in the darkness of the tunnels, never been a day when they failed to bring her joy.

While she sat at the table, using her claws to shape the cucumber into roses, Michelangelo carefully carried a tray of onigiri over to her. As he climbed up to set down the tray, she leaned down and murmured softly, “who’s my Happy Baby?”

He did not look up from his task, but a sly, contented smile crossed his face as he nudged the onigiri into place, and he whispered back, “I am.”

And all was once again right with the world.

 


	18. Permission to Cry: Reprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in response to a "what is Shard's equivalent of Splinter's hamster wheel?" prompt, and contains MAJOR spoilers for the end of Season 3, so make sure you've watched the season finale first. Takes place sometime between the end of season 3 and the start of season 4.

Raph was yelling again. Mikey had started to lose track of what Raph was ticked about. Easier to ask what he  _wasn’t_ mad at; it was a much shorter list. Mikey shifted in his porthole, his hands curling more tightly around his cocoa. He’d been drinking a lot of it lately. Better slow down before he had to pee. He was still too embarrassed to admit that he hadn’t figured out the bathroom.

Raph’s voice got louder, and Mikey sighed. So this time it was Donnie. Mikey’d gotten it a few times, too, but he didn’t mind as much as the others. It wasn’t that he  _liked_  it, but he  _got_  it. When Raph was mad, it meant he didn’t have time to think about or feel the other stuff.

Stomping footsteps passed by below, and he’d thought they were going to pass by. But they stopped, and much more lightly, returned. “Mikey?”

He glanced down over the rim of the porthole, trying his best to look surprised. “Oh, hey Raph.”

The look on his face said plainly that Raph had been about to yell again, but something in Mikey’s voice stopped him. Instead, he leaped up to the porthole, and Mikey shifted as best he could to accommodate his brother in the cramped space.

“What the heck are you doing up here, anyway? Leo’s been looking for you for hours.” Raph sank down next to him, shifting until his back pressed against the opposite side of the curving window, and he shuddered as he looked outside. “I’m still not over that. It’s weird not seeing… well,  _anything_. Doesn’t it give you the heebs?”

“Nah,” Mikey said, curling more tightly into his side of the window. “It reminds me of when I used to look up through the grate, and Sensei would tell me about the stars.” 

Raph’s face darkened, and Mikey could feel another storm brewing, so he pressed on. “Donnie said she made half the stories up, but I didn’t mind. I liked the one about us.” He grinned, leaning his head against the window. “Sometimes I’d fall asleep during the story, and wake up and catch her scratching the tree when she thought no one was looking.”

An answering snort drifted from the other side of the window. “Who the heck did she think she was fooling, anyway? Like we weren’t going to notice the  _giant claw marks_. ”

“Katana marks,” Mikey corrected, as Shard always had.

Raph snorted again. “Right. ‘Cause we totally don’t know what  _actual_  katana marks look like.”

“Even better was when we’d get on her nerves and she’d make that  _noise_ and go ‘meditate.’ One day I accidentally walked in on her. Guess what she was doing.”

“I don’t think I wanna know,” Raph said warily.

Mikey just grinned wider. “Remember all that yarn we got for her when she was trying to figure out new stuff she could make to sell in her store, and how it just kinda disappeared?”

Raph’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

Mikey nodded gleefully. “She was rolling around in a  _giant_  pile of the stuff.” His laughter joined with Raph’s until his throat tightened, and his laughter cut off on a crack. “Raph… I–”

“Don’t,” Raph said sharply, and he sighed at the expression Mikey turned on him. “I just– Mikey, I  _can’t_  yet…”

Mikey just reached over and patted Raph on the arm. “’S’okay, brah. I get it.” He offered the steaming mug. “Cocoa?”

After a moment, Raph took it, and sipped quietly. Eventually, his arm came to rest across Mikey’s shoulders, and they sat together in silence, looking out into the stars.


	19. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her children are no strangers to victory in the face of insurmountable odds, but their reaction to this one are a little unusual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place immediately after the Season 4 midseason finale.

She woke surrounded by children.

It was not unheard of, to be sure. Though they would try to hide it from their brothers, one or the other of her sons would often seek out their mother’s comfort if something was particularly troubling them. But to have all four of them together, at once, was an occurrence rare enough she could count on the claws of one hand the number of times it had happened since they had decided they were grown up, too old for such things.

Michelangelo came first, which did not actually surprise her. He was often the first to seek her out after long separations, and though she did not yet know the details, she knew that for her sons, they had been apart from her far longer than she from them.  All of her children bore healed scars she did not recognize, and she made a point of cataloging each new mark that her babies brought home. Her youngest came in quietly, but with no attempt to hide his presence, toddling over to her with sleep-heavy steps and dropping down on her futon with all the grace of a beached seal. He wriggled in next to her and pressed his head against the deep fur on her chest, his fingers knotting in it even as her arms came around him and he fell quickly back to sleep.

Leonardo came next, which did surprise her, particularly given his protestations of a need for sleep that deferred the telling of whatever incredible tale they had just lived. His steps stilled as hesitated in the doorway, and when she glanced up, his careful expression told her that he was assessing the situation and weighing his presence against Michelangelo’s. But when she inclined her head, he took the invitation without hesitation, curling up against the small of her back, but facing outward, toward the door. She far preferred sleeping on her back, but trapped as she was between her sons and their obvious, if inexplicable, need, she could sacrifice her own comfort for one night for their sakes.

Raphael followed not long after his brothers. His familiar steps came, strong and deliberate, but masked by a veneer of stealth. He did not want to be discovered, clearly, as his steps froze in deliberation at the sight of the two brothers already occupying her increasingly crowded futon. But when Shard carefully shifted her hand to pat the blanket, he came at once, shoving at Leonardo to clear himself a space and draping himself across her legs. Ignoring his little pout of defiance, Shard ran a soft hand across his head before settling herself back down again.

By this point, she was not surprised when Donatello wandered into the room much later, stopping short as his eyes adjusted to the dark and he spotted the other turtles scattered around her. His eyes were raw and red, and he smelled of solder and grease and the other strange perfumes of his science. She’d barely seen him on their return home; he’d just vanished into his laboratory, murmuring something about “write it all down before I forget.” But he was here, now, drooping with exhaustion, and he came to her when she held out her hand, settling himself next to Michelangelo with a soft, weary sigh. 

Their presence kept her awake long after their breathing evened out into the long rhythms of sleep. Every so often, one of them would shift, clinging to her through their dreams, and she watched them closely, her face dark with concern. They had been parted before, and it had not been long since the reunion in which they had found her wandering mad in the sewers and brought her back to herself, but even that had not brought this reaction from them. It was certainly not the sort she would have expected following a triumphant victory, no matter how trying the circumstances leading up to it. There was only one thing she was certain of:  for whatever their reasons, her children needed her. So she petted each one of them in turn, their quiet murmurs as they nestled closer bringing a smile to her face, and followed them into sleep.

* * *

When Michelangelo brought out her brush the next morning, it confirmed her suspicions that  something was amiss. It would be another week, at least, before she was in need of a good brushing, and Michelangelo of all her children ought to have known it. But the raw need on her baby’s face silenced any objection she might have made, and if they all gathered closer than usual as they awaited Casey and April, she did not mention that, either.

She did notice the looks they cast toward the white fur on her stomach as she slipped her houmongi down around her waist, and the way Michelangelo lingered around the corresponding place on her back as he brushed. He spent a long time there, and each time the brush crossed that particular spot, his fingers followed, digging into her fur a little as though searching for something.

April, too, gave her the same look when she and Casey arrived with breakfast from Murakami’s. Casey was, at first, too deep in his usual response to seeing her without her robe,  turning several shades of red and looking anywhere but at her. It usually amused the children to no end, for the turtles ran about in stages of undress on a daily basis without any untoward reaction from him, but their jibing lacked its usual enthusiasm, and in time, Casey, too, stared at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. 

At long last, with their friends present and “awesome Earth food” they had evidently missed in hand, her sons and daughter finally deigned to explain the events of the previous night. They told it in turns, passing the narrative from one to the other as they passed around the food, sometimes tripping over each other in their haste to clarify a point or to defend a questionable decision. Shard listened with wide eyes, disbelief giving way to amazement as they spun their incredible tale, and at last, she began to understand something of their reaction and the way they clung to her. It explained, too, the odd events of some weeks past, when her children had arrived home fram patrol early with strange twins of themselves in tow, and returned later that night with no memory of the events or answers to her questions. 

But there was a gap in their story that grew more pronounced as they told it. A hole in the narrative in the shape of her silhouette. She had refrained from commenting, at first, though it bewildered her. Had she not been distracted by the strange children in futuristic garb clinging to her as though the world was ending, there was no power on Earth that could have kept her from following the other set of her children onto that ship. But as the tale continued, leading to its end, she took note of the way the children pressed closer to her. The way all of them, Casey and April included, found reasons to brush their hands against her. The way Michelangelo kept up his brushing long after her fur had any need for it. 

Donatello took up the telling of the story as they neared the conclusion, filling in the gaps with a technical knowledge the others lacked to explain the threat of this black hole machine and the presence of their duplicates. And as he reached the point at which their circular path diverged from the old and a new future began, the look on Leonardo’s face slipped the last of the missing pieces into place.

She remembered the desperation with which he had cried her name, alerting her to the Shredder’s treachery. In truth, she had not expected that even one as twisted as Shredder could stoop to such levels of dishonesty -- not even he, she had thought, would risk the destruction of the world and the child they each laid claim to for the sake of spite and jealousy. She would not have caught his strike in time had Leonardo not warned her. Only now did it occur to her that the warning had come seconds  _ before _ the Shredder could have begun his strike. 

She understood, at last, why the children stared. Why Michelangelo’s hand had come to rest over the place where the Shredder’s blow would have fallen, searching for the wound that was not there. The wound that would, had it been delivered, have most assuredly been fatal. 

Her children had watched her die. They had seen her die, and pressed on, and returned to save their world.

And in doing so, they had saved  _ her. _

As the tale came full circle, ending where she had come in, the children fell silent, watching her in expectation. Drawing a trembling breath, Shard shook her head, clearing it of the shadowed thoughts of that other path. Briefly, for the most fleeting of instances, she caught a glimpse of falling petals and a breath of their sweet perfume before the sights and smells of home reasserted themselves. “Oh, my children,” she said softly. “My dear, brave children. I am so very, very proud of you.” 

Leonardo knew. As her eyes met his, she saw the moment when he realized she had figured it out. She did not think that the others had, but it did not stop them from piling into her arms when she opened them, and if her fur grew damp from more than one set of tears, the kisses she rained upon them, earning a chorus of laughing, shaky protests from human and turtle alike, ensured that those responsible could not be identified. 

Yet it was a long time before any of them were willing to let go.


End file.
